


The Ideal and The Real

by Knightblazer



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Communication, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hopeful Ending, Introspection, Persona 5: The Royal, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, Post-Game(s), Post-Persona 5: The Royal, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 45,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23911801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knightblazer/pseuds/Knightblazer
Summary: He fought, and he had lost, fair and square.Now all he can do is to pick up the pieces.(post true ending of P5R. maruki learns how to start again, from square one.)
Relationships: Kurusu Akira & Maruki Takuto, Maruki Takuto & Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 67
Kudos: 117





	1. february

**Author's Note:**

> Clocked in at 143 hours, and with a lot of feelings to process about one (1) misguided man who was just trying so hard. He's hands down my new fave character in Persona 5, and I deeply require more fics of him.
> 
> But for now, I will feed myself.

The world, as Takuto recalls later, did not end with a bang. 

Instead it drowns in silence—a silence that only breaks when he gasps, and the sound echoes in his ears as his eyes fly open to meet the dull, dirty, smudges of the ceiling above his bed. 

The familiarity of the sight makes him relax for a fraction of a second before the memories of _everything_ come rushing back to him. Takuto jerks upwards, trying to shift himself into a seating position, but all he gets is a wave of pain that slams through his whole body as it screams in protest from his attempt to move.

Takuto tries again, but he doesn’t even last ten seconds before he’s forced to give up because it hurts all too much. His body is sore in places he knows has never been sore before, and when he turns his head the side of his face stings from the punch that Kurusu had given him—

_(the cold winter wind cuts into him as he hangs defeated, only alive because of the red, gloved hand that stubbornly clutches around his own._

_“Please… let go of my hand.”_

_grey eyes flash back at him at those words, the defiant flame from their earlier battle now smouldering into determination—one so similar to his own, and yet so very different at the same time. they could never be the same, for they were the one who won._

_“We’re going back together.” kurusu grits out the words in between clenched teeth, one eye closing as he winces from his continued extensions but still doing all he can to keep takuto from falling. “I won’t let it end like this.”)_

Takuto feels his left hand throb from how Kurusu had held on so, so tightly, so determined to hold on for him when Taukto himself no longer had the will to. He’d held on all the way until his friends arrived, and even after that he continued to hold on as Morgana brought them out of the reality that Takuto had created as it crumbled into dust all around them.

There’s nothing left of it now, he knows. His Palace, his reality, his _Persona_ —it's all gone. Gone just like Rumi.

Taukto squeezes his eyes shut and tells himself to _breathe_.

He fought, and he had lost, fair and square.

Now all he can do is to pick up the pieces.

* * *

Time, after that, passes by in a blur. Takuto doesn’t remember much aside from forcing himself to get out of bed every few hours in order to take care of his basic needs. He can’t recover if he stays stagnant on the bed, after all. 

He knows the Thieves won’t bother to come and find him. For one, none of them know where he lives—and more importantly, they’ll be too occupied with trying to get Kurusu out of prison, where he’s gone to now that there’s no longer Akechi to take his place.

Takuto remembers how _accomplished_ he felt then, to be able to alter that reality. It’d been the first thing he did once he realized the extent of his powers, as a show of gratitude to Kurusu. After all, if it hadn’t been for his help, Takuto knows he wouldn’t be here now. 

He’d kept watch as Kurusu celebrated their victory with the rest of the Thieves, and later as they enjoyed their well-deserved rest. He’d felt the silent regrets of every one of them, the pain they’d suffered to bring about their reality, the hurt they had to bury so they could move on without it weighing them down. 

It wasn’t _fair_ , he had thought then, his own heart weeping for the pain they had to endure. It wasn’t fair that these children carried these burdens that were so unfairly thrusted upon them by an unjust society. They deserved to be happy after all that they’ve been through.

So that was what he did. He gave all of them what they wanted—friends, family, a place to belong. And to Kurusu, he gave a second chance, another opportunity to get what he was forced to let go from his grasp. He’d been so sure then how happy they would all be.

And they were—at least, for a while.

But even after having experienced happiness, they still ended up choosing the harder path. Even Sumire, who’d once been so broken that she could think of no other option except to end it all.

_(“I don’t think what you’re saying is wrong either, Dr. Maruki… some people want to run from their pain and cling to some other version of reality… like I used to._

_But the knowledge I gained through that pain, and my desire to move on… those are even more precious to me!”)_

Could he have that strength too? Did he even _deserve_ it now, after his failure? 

He doesn’t know.

Or perhaps, he doesn’t _want_ to know.


	2. march

It would be a lie to say that the questions Takuto asks himself has faded away, because they don’t—they never will, really. But it is easy to ignore them when your body is throbbing with countless aches and pains from being beaten down from godhood and all he really wants to do is to sleep and sleep and sleep.

Maybe if he slept here long enough, he could simply just… fade away.

But reality isn’t that kind. At least, not _this_ reality. 

If it were _his_ , he would have let it happen, if that’d been what they truly wanted, if that is what made them happy. To fade away and vanish, to disappear from the world so that they would no longer be burdened by their pains and regrets. It would be a mercy.

(Would it? A part of him questions now, sounding so very like Kurusu. Would it really make them happy?

Once upon a time, it would have been so easy to say _yes_.)

But this is not his reality anymore. This is the reality of a godless world, where there are only questions but no answers. No certainties and no guarantees to happiness at the end of the road that one chooses. A reality where you have to take the hand you’re dealt with, even if it ends up breaking you.

This is the reality that _they_ have chosen. 

It comes crashing back down onto him eventually, via the incessant ringing of his phone one morning. Takuto takes five minutes to struggle against the pains in his body before finally managing to pick up. 

“About time you picked up, Maruki.”

Shamefully, it takes a second before Taukto realizes who’s on the other end of the line. “Shibusawa,” he manages out, hoping that the phone won’t pick up how terrible he actually feels. “What’s the matter?”

“I should be directing that question to _you_.” A brief pause, and then a sigh. “You kinda just fell out of the radar after telling me that you were going to show the paper to the professor. I thought it might’ve been the holidays and all that, but it’s already been almost three months now, so I…”

Takuto blinks at the words, then takes a second to pull his phone away from him so he can look at the date, eyes briefly widening in surprise once he sees exactly what date it is. _March 3rd._

...has he really been in his house for a whole month? That certainly would explain why Shibusawa is so concerned.

Quickly, Takuto brings the phone back to his ear. “I—I’m sorry. I just… didn’t notice.” It’s a weak excuse and he knows it, but there’s really nothing else he can say to defend himself. The truth would be too fantastical, and Takuto had been the one to _make_ it happen. 

The pause from Shibusawa’s end tells him that much, too. “Well… at least you finally picked up. Now I know you’re alive.” Another pause. “Showing the paper didn’t go so well, then?”

“I…” Considering what Takuto did was less of _showing_ and more of _gloating_ back then, combined with everything else that happened afterward… well. “Yeah. Got into a bit of trouble, but it's alright now.”

Shibusawa sighs. “Well, that’s why I told you to just submit it instead of showing it to his face, even if Shido wasn’t there to stop you like before.” Yet another pause. “Then again, you were always one to rush head into things when you get all fired up. Guess I can’t exactly blame you.”

Takuto tightens the grip on his phone. _You should,_ he thinks. _I had my chance to do everything right, and I still failed. I’ve lost everything._

The memory of Rumi’s bright, hopeful face dances in his mind, fragile and brittle as cracked glass. He remembers the moment he’d seen the pain in her eyes disappear, watched her grief dissipate into joy. It had been as brilliant as it’d been painful, especially as he realized what had been sacrificed to make this miracle happen. 

It had hurt, of course, knowing that he and Rumi would never be together now. But it was worth it just to see her smile again, to know that she would never feel that pain again. It’s a sacrifice he’d been willing to make, just as how he’d been happy to accept the burden of taking in all the world’s pain if it meant being able to wipe it all away in his perfect reality. 

A world without misery, without pain, without sacrifice. A veritable paradise where all would only know peace and joy and happiness. The biblical Garden of Eden, reborn and remade into a place where everyone always belonged. 

But that dream is no more. It had burned up in flames along with everything else. 

Takuto feels something in his chest clench tight.

 _I’ve lost,_ he tells himself, a reminder of the reality that he once turned away. _This is my comeuppance._

“...uki. Hey, Maruki!”

It takes a second for Takuto to realize that he’s left Shibusawa hanging for far too long. He grimaces. “I… sorry. Just got a lot on my mind right now.”

“Yeah, clearly.” Shibusawa lets out a soft, amused sound, but then sighs. “Look. I can’t say I know what’s going on with you since the last time, but…” Pause. Another sigh. “Whatever it is, don’t let it get all caught up in your own head.”

The advice, of course, isn’t something that Takuto hasn’t heard before, but this time the words strike him deeper than he expects. 

_ (“You forgot something.” _

_ a quiet swish and flick, almost inaudible if it wasn’t for the near dead silence of the cafe. he follows the sound and sees the Thieves' signature calling card sliding over to his side of the table from where kurusu has tossed it from.  _

_ he feels akechi’s gaze burning from the back of his skull as he picks up the card and reads the message they have composed for him. _

[Takuto Maruki has committed the great sin of creating an overblown self-righteous reality granting people's wishes. 

However, we will not soak ourselves in this false happiness, and we will overcome our pain and move forward. As a result, we will not accept your salvation. 

Thus, we will steal your distorted desires and take back our future. 

From, the Phantom Thieves.]

_ he’d expected himself to feel something, reading this. frustration, maybe. or sorrow, knowing that despite all he has done, kurusu and his friends are unwilling to come to terms with what he is trying to do for everyone. perhaps even pain, as the showdown between them seems to be more and more inevitable, no matter how he tries to dissuade them.  _

_ but the only thing he feels is quiet, firm, determination as azathoth hums at the back of his mind, assuring him that what he is doing is the right thing to do. he’s come too far in what he’s done to turn back now.  _

_ they will understand, when they meet tomorrow. _

_ “Ah, that’s right.” he pockets the card into his jacket and meets kurusu’s cool gaze with his own. “I’ve heard your calling.”) _

_Self-righteous_ , they had declared him as, in the same breadth in deciding his desires to help had become distorted.

Could the desire to help truly be distorted? Takuto can’t see how such a selfless act could be twisted into something terrible instead. All he ever wanted to do was to help. To allow people the chance to escape from their pain, just as he did with Yoshizawa—

But even she had rejected it in the end, didn’t she? She’d said it herself, how she would rather choose the pain over a life of contentment. If even she said something like that, then…

Maybe he really was everything the Thieves had described him as. What _Akechi_ had called him as he sneered from behind his black mask. Self-righteous. Conceited. Overblown. 

Distorted.

Suddenly all Takuto wants to do is to claw off the skin from his bones. He feels—dirty. Despicable. _Wrong_. Why is he still even here, when he’d been the one to reject this reality in the first place? He shouldn’t exist here at all, not after what he’s done. What he’s turned his back against in his blind, _foolish_ crusade. 

Distantly, he hears Sibusawa calling out his name again, but this time Takuto can’t even bring himself to focus on whatever is being said through the phone—if Shibusawa is even saying anything at all. Regardless, Takuto mumbles out whatever his mind can piece together as an excuse and hangs up without even a promise to call back later. 

He knows it's not like him at all—but then, he hasn’t really been _himself_ at all in the first place for a while now, hasn’t he? If he had let himself just _think_ , to fully understand the ramifications of what he had tried to accomplish—

—or maybe he did, but he’d been far too gone in his own desperation to _succeed_ to consider turn away. Takuto isn’t sure if he can truly ever know what’d been the catalyst for his change. His decision. 

Uncertainty grips him tight, as if trying to strangle him like a noose around his neck. His body shakes, heart pounding thunderously between his ears as that very same noose tightens further. Takuto tries to recall the breathing exercises he’d given countless times to friends and strangers and clients alike but nothing comes back to him. It’s as if—

The moment Takuto thinks about it he feels it; the gaping, hollow space within him where his Persona once was. Another reminder of what he’d given up—and what he has lost. 

Takuto curls up, burying his head into folded arms, and blocks out the sobs that echo in the dark confines of his room.

* * *

Eventually, Takuto realizes he must have exhausted himself to sleep, because when he opens his eyes again he sees Shibusawa hovering over him with a concerned look.

“Shit, Maruki,” he says once he realizes that Takuto has woken up. “You gave me a hell of a fright.”

Guilt coils around his insides, heavy and somber. Takuto averts his gaze away. “Sorry.” The apology comes out hoarse and raspy, as he’d screamed his voice out even though Takuto knows he hasn’t done anything like that at all. At least not since—

_ (“I gave up everything! **Everything!** So, why…?!” _

_ pain, pain, so much pain. takuto wants to do nothing but scream and punch and _hurt_ as his life’s work withers and dies all around him. it’s only a matter of time before they’re all gone, now that his persona is gone for good and his paradise is crumbling. _

_ his vision wavers as tears sting hotly in his eyes. he’s broken, ruined, defeated—by the very person who stands across from him. kurusu watches him with the quiet focus he’d never once lost, a silent intensity that takuto has always admired.  _

_ but now, all he feels is envy. a childish jealousy that bubbles up from the parts of him he’d always push away and ignore but now can no longer do so. not when everything's falling apart around him and knowing that he can never get back all the things he’s lost tonight. _

_ he’d told kurusu to kill every last one of his regrets, but deep inside he knows they’ll always linger. no amount of pain he gets from his knuckles and his face can ever erase them.  _

_ takuto staggers after the second hit he takes, his legs quaking from the effort to keep him up. there’s no more persona to keep him going now, no more powers and things like strength of heart. all that’s left is just him—a single, useless human who couldn’t even accomplish the one thing he knows he could have done. _

_ “A reality where… no one suffers.”  _

_ in a matter of minutes, it’ll all be gone. _

_ he’s lost.) _

The touch of a hand on his shoulder brings Takuto out from his memories. He jerks, startled, gaze wildly darting about before it settles on Shibusawa, who looks even more worried now. 

He pulls his hand away, and starts to speak. “Maruki…”

“Don’t,” Takuto cuts in before his friend can continue. A part of him recoils at how terrible he’s treating his friend who made the effort to come here to check on him but he simply just—can’t. It’s too much right now, and Takuto thinks if he has to have any more of this it’ll only get worse. 

Shibusawa frowns. His lips press together into a thin line, and Takuto can feel his disapproval even in the silence that follows. 

Shame follows hotly after the guilt in him now. Takuto flicks his gaze back down and tries to still the trembling of his hands. “... just… not now.” Eventually, he knows, he will have to move on. But not now, when everything is still far too raw and fresh for him to do anything rational. 

( _rational_ , his mind scoffs the word at him, like a joke that’s long flown over his head. _somebody rational wouldn’t have done what you did._ )

He doesn’t know how much longer the silence lasts, but eventually Shibusawa breaks it with a sigh. “Fine,” he mutters, the disapproval still audible in his voice. “But call me once a day from tomorrow onwards, alright? Or else I’m gonna have to come back in here again.”

All Takuto can do is to nod. Having Shibusawa to come in to check on him like this wasn’t exactly the reason why he’d given his friend the spare key to his apartment, but he appreciates the fact that Shibusawa had done so, even if he wasn’t exactly showing his gratitude very well. Maybe later, he could…

(Could what? Takuto can’t do anything for him now. He can’t return Shibusawa’s aunt to him like before, to give him that chance to show her all the things he’d wanted to since she passed when he was sixteen and still hurting from his parents’ divorce.)

He feels Shibusawa’s hand on his shoulder once more. “I’m not going to ask what happened,” he says, voice quiet now. “But whatever it is… you still got tomorrow to deal with it. Just… keep that in mind, alright?” He squeezes his shoulder briefly after those words, then pulls away his hand again. Takuto hears the sound of his footsteps as he moves away, presumably to make his way out. 

But Shibusawa stops only after a few steps. Takuto can sense his presence lingering at the door of his room even though neither of them say anything. The silence stretches on for a while before Shibusawa breaks it again. 

“I’ll be waiting for your call tomorrow, Maruki. Take care of yourself.”

The footsteps start again, and a minute later Takuto hears the sound of the front door clicking shut. 

He turns, burying his face into the pillow, and wonders if tomorrow will ever come for him again.

* * *

Takuto figures he must have drifted off to sleep again, because the next thing he registers is the sensation of soft, fresh grass underneath him—something he hasn’t felt ever since he left his hometown to pursue his dreams in the big city. 

He opens his eyes and sees the expanse of the night sky right above him, with countless stars twinkling in the darkness, their gleam unsoiled by any kind of artificial light. It’s a sight that never fails to catch his attention—that is, until now. 

The quiet, gentle huff of amusement that bubbles up right next to him has Takuto turning his head so fast he would’ve had whiplash if he actually did it in reality. But none of this is real, and he knows because there is no reason as to why Rumi would be here beside him now unless he's dreaming. 

Still, even knowing that, his heart still aches from scars that have never healed as he watches Rumi giggle at his reaction. “Why so surprised, Takuto? Don’t tell me you were dreaming again.”

Takuto feels his lips twist at the question—he quickly realizes, then, that this is far more than just a dream. This is a memory; the memory of the last night he had with her, before everything in their lives fell into pieces. 

And just as all memories do, they continue to play on even without any input from Takuto himself. Rumi laughs again, and again his heart aches at how carefree she sounds. He can only hope that she still sounds the same way now, these days. 

“Silly Takuto,” she chides teasingly, “This is why Shibusawa keeps making fun of you.”

Takuto doesn’t say it out loud, but he can recall the response he’d given then, with perfect clarity. _You can’t blame me for being worried. What if things don’t work out at all?_

“Then we just try again, dummy.” Rumi rolls her eyes as she answers with fond exasperation. “I know you’re all about getting it right the first time, but sometimes things just don’t work out that way, you know?”

 _But I want it to be perfect,_ Takuto thinks, knowing that this, too, were the exact words he had said back then as well. _I want it to be good, for you._

Rumi shakes her head. “It’s _already_ good enough.” She raises her hands and presses them on each side of Takuto’s face, holding him still for her to lean in and plant a gentle kiss on his nose. “I don’t need things to be perfect, Takuto. I’m happy enough, just like this.”

Back then, those words had been enough for Takuto to let the matter drop, not wanting to say or do anything that might’ve caused friction between them given their plans for the next day—plans that ultimately would never come to fruition because reality will never be kind to people who deserve it. 

Now, however, with nothing left to lose, Takuto voices out the question he’d held back all those years ago. “And what happens if you stop being happy?”

Given the fact that he is in a memory, Takuto doesn’t expect any kind of response at all. But then the memory goes off-script, and where Rumi would’ve pulled away at this point she only presses herself closer, and Takuto startles when he feels the press of her lips on his forehead. 

He stares, dumbfounded, as Rumi pulls away after that gesture, looking at him with a sadness in her eyes that he knows he has never seen before. 

“Oh, Takuto,” she murmurs, her regret as heavy as it is brittle. “Happiness doesn’t last forever. Whether you’re happy or you’re sad, tomorrow will still come either way.”

* * *

When Takuto opens his eyes again, he sees bars of light coming through the blinds of his window. Even without his glasses he can see where they land on the floor, spilling out from there to chase away the darkness that’d been haunting the rest of his room. 

His body still aches, but Takuto manages to get himself sitting again. He finds his phone from where it’d been stashed underneath his pillow and looks at the date. 

_March 5th._

_(“I’m not going to ask what happened. But whatever it is… you still got tomorrow to deal with it. Just… keep that in mind, alright?”_

_“Happiness doesn’t last forever. Whether you’re happy or you’re sad, tomorrow will still come either way.”)_

February to March. A whole month of tomorrows, already passed. 

Takuto takes a deep breath and shakes his head, trying to push away the darkness inside of him. He’s not that naive to think they’ll disappear if he ignores them, but… 

There’s still tomorrow. The world continues on, regardless of all that’s happened. 

All he can do is to take it one step at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like I did too much angst here, but... idk. I'm trying not to be too hard on myself with this since writing this is mostly a stream of consciousness thing for me here rather than something ~serious~ so I don't want to nitpick too much about my own characterization. Feel free to give opinions though! 
> 
> Also you may have noticed I added one more to the total number of chapters. I more or less have an idea on the whole story now, so hopefully its something to look forward to. \o/
> 
> Appreciate all the support that's come for this little fic thus far. Hope this brings about more delicious Maruki fics in the future too huhuhu.


	3. april, solstice

It’d been daunting, at first, but Takuto manages. 

He calls Shibusawa every day, as promised. He stops himself from moping around in bed. Since he had resigned from his old workplace at the end of last year, he turns to job advertisements, and quickly manages to land a position as a taxi driver. A far cry from anything he’d done before, or even any of the dreams he’d once had, but that wasn’t the point. 

The point is to start fresh. Takuto was determined to put all his past with cognitive psience behind him and look ahead for that tomorrow Rumi told him to look out for. He tells himself that from the very moment he resolved himself to start again, and he continues to tell himself in order to muster up the courage to drive his taxi up to the minivan Kurusu’s friends had rented on the day where Kurusu was slated to return home after spending his year in Tokyo. 

He knows it probably wasn’t the best idea to see them on such a day given their _last_ meeting, but he owes them this much, at the very least. Perhaps not so much for stopping him, but to let them know, however indirectly, that he bears no animosity for what they’ve done, what they’ve chosen. This reality is what they have fought for, and what they have rightfully won. Acting any other way would only disrespect their efforts.

Fortunately, they take his arrival with nothing else beyond surprise—and surprisingly, relief as well. Though Takuto guesses that’s mostly because of the police officers that were not-so-subtly following after them. It’s hard to fully gauge how the Thieves really feel about him considering it would be a day full of heightened emotions for them. He doesn’t need to be able to peer into alternate realities to know how close the bond Kurusu has with his friends; after all, those bonds were the very reason that…

Takuto stops himself there before he can let the thought finish. He has to move past that. The strength of the bonds that the Phantom Thieves have is something that is to be envied, especially knowing that they will remain as strong even after their disbandment. It is because of those bonds that they are here now. 

It is because of those bonds that he is here, too. 

_Tomorrow,_ he reminds himself as he steers clear of the darkness that still dwells within him. The day will eventually come when he finds the strength to dispel all the ghosts that haunt him. But until then all he can do is take things one day at a time, moving from one day to the next in search of his promised tomorrow. 

For all that has happened between them, Kurusu remains silent during the drive over. Takuto catches his gaze several times via the rearview mirror, but no words are exchanged. For some reason, Kurusu remains perfectly content to gaze out of the window, his expression one of cool confidence despite the fact that he is soon parting ways with his friends. 

Truly, the bonds between Kurusu and his friends is something to be respected. 

Almost all too soon, they arrive at their destination. Kurusu rummages around his pockets for payment but Takuto stops him, unwilling to owe him more than he already has. He tells him too, about his intent to start over, though in not those exact words. Just a reminder of sorts, of the victory (and reality) that Kurusu has sought for and won. 

Kurusu takes his words with an almost imperceptible blink. His expression remains as calm and tranquil as a still lake in winter. Takuto wonders, briefly, what exactly is going through his mind right now. Even until the end, there is much of Kurusu that remains a mystery to him, even after the time they’ve spent together.

...but he supposes it won’t matter anymore. Once Kurusu has all his luggage out from the boot Takuto bids him good luck and takes his leave as he sees the minivan come around the corner. Best to not get in the way of their undoubtedly emotional farewell. 

As he departs Takuto keeps one eye on the station, watching it get smaller and smaller on the side mirrors as he goes further. The moment it vanishes entirely Takuto finds himself pulling over at the first spot that allows him to, and once he’s certain everything is in order he sags further into his seat, sighing loudly.

It’s hard to fully describe the mix of emotions that swirl restlessly inside him; regret, maybe, of how their parting had happened, or perhaps guilt for what he knows he’d interrupted. But if hard pressed, Takuto would probably say the closest descriptor he would find would be _relief_ ; Kurusu’s departure from Tokyo had been the last thing he’d seen in his vision of the alternate reality where Kurusu never bothered to see him, where Akechi never got his second chance, however fleeting it might be, and Yoshizawa blissfully continues to live on as her deceased twin sister. Kurusu would have fun with his friends, but even there they would eventually have to drop him off at the station, where he would finally take the train and depart from Tokyo to return to his hometown. This, more than anything else, is what told Takuto that everything was over. 

But despite knowing that, the very same relief he feels is temporary at best, with no sense of finality to the turbulent emotions that continue to swirl within him. If anything it feels like all those sensations had been put to a halt by a giant pause button, ready to resume whenever the time is right.

Takuto wonders if that time will truly ever come.

* * *

The days pass, one after another. The sun rises and falls, the moon shines and then dims, and the world continues on with everyone living their quiet, ordinary lives, all of them full of imperfections and unhappiness that Takuto no longer has the power to erase away like before. The only thing he can do is to provide a listening ear to the people who board his cab. 

Truth be told, when he first took this job Takuto hadn’t expected himself to take as much of a liking to it as he does now. There is something pleasing about being able to bring people to their destinations, knowing that bringing them to where they wanted to be would be a service for them to continue their lives. A businessman to the office, on the day where he gets a promotion, or an elderdy who finally gets to go home after spending months in the hospital battling a critical illness. Tourists, who’d arrived in Japan for the first time and were ready to explore wonders and sights they’d never seen before. 

Every passenger in the taxi has their own stories, and Takuto is but a guide leading them to the next point of where those stories lead them. It makes everything far more bearable when he thinks of it that way.

The passengers themselves can also be just as much of a delight, when they’re open to having a conversation. So many people means just as many stories, countless little moments of people’s lives that Takuto knows he’ll remember far longer than the actual person probably would. Happy stories, sad stories, angry stories… so many of them, all of them so different from one another, and Takuto is happy to hear them all. There are times when he can’t help but lean into old habits and gives his advice, which ends up being taken in a wide variety of ways depending on the person in question. 

Since he’s no longer an actual counselor Takuto knows better than to force any of his opinions on people—doubly so, considering… well. The past has proven to Takuto that he can’t trust himself with doing what he once thought was the right thing to do. If he is to be honest, he still doesn’t know if anything he’s doing now is the right thing to do. The stalwart confidence he’d once had is now reduced to nothing but a house of cards, liable to fold upon itself at any given moment.

Still, all Takuto can do is to continue moving, one step at a time, to try and catch up with a reality he’d once turned his back against. If he keeps at this long enough, then perhaps he will one day arrive at his true tomorrow. A new day where he knows he will be able to really start again. 

One day, it will be here.

One day.

* * *

_“Spring—the season of meetings and partings. Though you may be far away from your loved ones, remember that you are never truly apart from them! Feel free to call in if you wanna send out some messages of support for your friends, relatives or just to those readying to start a new life! In the meantime, from number one on the nationwide charts:_ Signs of Love _, by the sensational duo: Risette and Kanami Mashita!”_

The tunes of Japan’s number one pop song begins to play as soon as the DJ finishes his announcement. Takuto hums along to the melody, having memorized it by now after having heard it countless times on the radio these last few weeks. Doing this, at least, is a pleasant distraction from the heavy rain that’s currently pelting down onto the taxi.

On days like these, Takuto knows that he’ll be lucky at all if he gets even a single passenger—doubly so when it’s raining hard enough for him to hear the metallic ring of the taxi’s hood being struck. Parking somewhere sheltered would have been the ideal thing to do, but Takuto would rather not risk the dangers of driving in a storm this heavy. 

All Takuto can hope is for this storm to pass by soon; as far as he can remember rainstorms in April usually don’t linger for long, but then again rainstorms in April don’t usually get this bad in the first place. This kind of weather only tended to come around June. 

Yet another reminder that the world really isn’t as simple as some would wish for. Not exactly a novel concept,of course, but it only serves to remind Takuto of the thoughts and wishes of the public that he’d seen and heard during the brief time where he had the power to give everyone their happiness. He remembers how overwhelming it’d been at first, to hear the desires and wishes of countless people right at his fingertips. But Azathoth—no, Adam Kadmon—had been there to guide him every step of the way, to be his support where he needed it. Back then, Takuto fully believed that he could do everything.

Takuto feels his lips twist at that thought, turning his face away so that he doesn’t have to see the reflection of his own shame staring back at him. Looking back now, he can see for himself how warped his thoughts had become. He’d been so full of himself, wholly believing that he was something akin to a god. No matter how good-natured his intentions were, it was no excuse for how he’d acted then. 

Even still, despite being aware now, Takuto still can’t ignore the gnawing sense of _hurt_ that nestles deep within him. The small part of him that mourns the loss of his Persona, of being denied his life’s dream. 

_The closer you are to your goal, the more it hurts when you fail._

It’s something he said countless times, to both friends and patients alike. Of course, it had come from a place of sentiment; a reflection of the opposite party’s feelings when they talked to him about their heartache which had stemmed from failure. 

Takuto wonders when had that sentiment turned into something else for him, one strong enough that it even went into his beliefs. Was it when he himself was set back by Shido? Or was it seeing Rumi suffer without end until he helped her? Or maybe…

_(“You know, there probably are plenty of people who’d ultimately benefit from your ‘reality’._

_But what about the people who want to take on the world themselves? How’s it right to rob_ them _of their opportunities?”_

_“I don’t think what you’re saying is wrong either, Dr. Maruki… some people want to run from their pain and cling to some other version of reality… like I used to._

_But the knowledge I gained through that pain, and my desire to move on… those are even more precious to me!”)_

A lump forms at the back of his throat. Takuto swallows it down and forces himself to take in a deep breath. Perhaps he will never find the answers that he seeks, but… it doesn’t matter anymore. He’s putting all of that behind him and starting over. He needs to remember that.

A sudden knock against the side of the taxi startles Takuto out of his thoughts. He jumps in his seat, taken by surprise, but once the moment passes he quickly darts his gaze about to see who or what had done it. With this kind of weather it could simply be a fallen branch or something along those lines, but the sound didn’t quite suggest that to be the case.

But with how bad the rain is coming down, visibility is almost at nil, though not for lack of trying. Takuto squints at the windows of his car, attempting to see if he can make anything out in the rain. While he could get out of the car to try and get a better look at his surroundings, Takuto would rather avoid having to do that if at all possible. Sure, he may have an umbrella, but it's not really going to do much in this kind of weather. But if there really is somebody close by who needed help…

Takuto considers his options—or at least, he does so for the next thirty seconds before another knock sounds out, this time against the window of the driver’s seat. At the same time a blurry figure makes itself visible right outside the door, and the suddenness of it all causes Takuto to jump again as fear takes hold of him for a quick moment. 

“A—Ah! ...ah.” Once the moment’s passed Takuto quickly realizes that the figure is human-shaped, and that’s more than enough for him to take action. He unlocks the doors of the taxi and gestures to the back, hoping that the other party manages to get the message. 

Fortunately, it seems like they do; as soon as Takuto gives the signal the figure turns and makes their way over to the back, and a moment after that there’s the telltale click of the door being opened. The moment the door opens Takuto winces at the full, thunderous sound of rain still coming down hard outside. That truly is some terrible, terrible weather. 

Still, even with that going on, Takuto can’t exactly miss the wet squelch coming from the stranger who he’d just allowed into the taxi. The sound only becomes more prominent when they close the door behind them, muffling the rain once more. From the rearview mirror Takuto sees that his new passenger is completely soaked to the bone; even the hoodie they currently have on seems to have done nothing to protect them from the rain. 

“I, uh,” Takuto fumbles for a bit, mostly because he’s surprised that anybody would even come out in this kind of weather at all. Judging from how soaked their clothes are, Takuto can only assume that this unfortunate stranger must have probably been caught by surprise at the abrupt downpour. At least now they’re set on a safe trip home. “D’you want me to lower the aircon?” 

All Takuto gets in response is a shake of their head. 

“...alright.” The silence is… concerning, but Takuto knows better than to try and push it. Besides, they did answer his question. Now, for the usual one… “So, um… where to?”

A pause, this time. Then, more squelching sounds, and from the corner of his eye Takuto sees a phone sliding up the center console with it’s screen lit up to show a location on the standard built-in navigation app. It’s hardly the first time somebody has shown their destination in this manner—tourists do it _a lot_ , mostly due to language barriers—but Takuto highly doubts that this particular stranger isn’t somebody local, which only makes the silence even more worrying… 

...but not enough for Takuto to consider forcing them back out into the rain. If all they needed was shelter from the storm, then he’d be willing to provide; it's not as if he’s going to get any business with the storm still raging on. 

Before all that, however, he should probably first see what it is that they want—or rather, where they intend to go and figure out if they really did only come in here to get some shelter. Takuto keeps his eye on them as he picks up the phone, and continues to maintain a watch via the rearview mirror when he has to shift his gaze to see what location the phone is showing. 

It’s a photo of a building. An apartment complex, to be more precise, just like countless others that he’s seen all over Tokyo and the surrounding areas. Did they just want to get home, then? If so, then why just not tell him the address—

Takuto brings his gaze lower at the same time the thought crosses his mind, and that’s when he sees the address captioned underneath the photo. 

...he knows this address. Not because it has any special significance to him, but rather due to his prior job as a counselor. It’s just one of those things somebody in the line eventually comes to know, like how a programmer knows certain lines of code or a cook can always recall how different brands of oil work in specific conditions. 

For him, it would be addresses. Or to be more specific—locations. Locations that happened to be hotspots for suicides. 

Takuto finds himself staring at the phone as the lump in his throat from earlier now comes back in full force. Did they…? Were they…? He doesn’t want to assume, but considering their silence, and the kind of weather they were venturing in… Years of practice have taught Takuto to not ignore his gut feelings about these issues, and right now it’s practically screaming at him to _do something_.

Not long ago this is exactly the kind of situation where Takuto would have jumped in, determination fueling him on his quest to help out anyone in need, _especially_ somebody who is so obviously hurting. But now Takuto doesn’t have that same kind of confidence in himself anymore—how could he, after everything that’s happened? He doesn’t even know if he’s even in the right state of mind himself to be able to help others.

“...are you sure this is where you’re going?” There’s really nothing else he can say, except for this. 

He watches the passenger give their answer in the form of a nod via the rearview mirror. Takuto feels his heart sink as his stomach churns with this knowledge. What is the right thing to do? Does he have a right to intervene, when it's been shown to him so clearly how his methods of helping only serve to hurt? Still, he can’t just… stay on the sidelines and pretend to not care.

The choice of what to do weighs heavy in Takuto’s mind as he stares at his passenger one more time. He racks his mind trying to think of something—anything—he can do to stall this somehow, but nothing comes to mind. If he denies their request there’s no doubt that they’ll just find another taxi to bring them there, and by then it’ll be far too late. The same thing would also probably happen if he pretends to mess up the address. If they were set on what to do, then anything he does now would only be delaying the inevitable. 

And, unlike before, there is no more Azathoth to guide him. No more Adam Kadmon for him to fall back to in order to treat those who are beyond his normal means of help. He can’t close his eyes and will them to be better like before—and feeling that sense of powerlessness is… terrifying. 

When had been the last time he felt this way?

(Rumi, her eyes hollow and lost, trapped in a void of memories that torment her without end. Rumi, who would only speak in gasps and cries and screams ever since that fateful day. Rumi, who’d unknowingly sacrificed her family in order to smile again in blissful ignorance.

Takuto had been so afraid that he barely ate or slept in the days after, his mind caught between horror and amazement of what he’d witnessed. What he’d done, however unconsciously. 

He remembers, then, that’d been the first time he heard the voice of his other self, reaching out to him in silent comfort and letting him know what he did was right. It was correct. He didn’t destroy Rumi. He saved her. Gave her a life again after it’d been shattered into pieces by a cruel reality that did not want to give people their happiness. 

Perhaps that’d been the day when he began to change.)

His hands tremble against the wheel. Takuto takes in a breath and steadies them. 

He looks at the rearview mirror one more time, then reaches for the shift stick to begin the one way trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sweats* (；´∀｀)
> 
> Yes this fic is getting extended AGAIN. No I did not intend for it to be this way. But it felt appropriate, so... ahaha. But I swear this is the last extension. 
> 
> Anyway thanks for the continued support for this little fic! Hopefully the next part will be out sometime next week... fingers crossed. u_u


	4. april, equinox

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** This chapter talks about suicide and suicide ideation. Feel free to skip if such topics are uncomfortable for you.

Takuto remembers the first time he met Sumire Yoshizawa.

From the moment he laid eyes on her, he felt nothing but heartache at the pain that’s so clearly written across her face; her eyes reflecting nothing else beyond an endless agony that Takuto knows would never leave her as long as she lives. 

She’d been passed onto his care as a last ditch effort; a case signed off as hopeless by others, passed on via recommendations only to ease their conscience of having tried to do something for her. It’s not the first time it's happened, but it never fails to further fuel the flames of Takuto’s dream, more confident than ever that his work would be able to help all these people who weren't able to get the aid they so desperately needed. 

( _And then there will never be anyone else who suffered as Rumi did._

Takuto had always been aware that such a thought exists, lingering at the back of his mind, but he never allowed himself to acknowledge it until he was lying on the crumbling remains of his Palace, his face throbbing from the punches that Kurusu had given him.)

He keeps his voice gentle when he converses with her, attempts to pry out the source of her pain with quiet understanding and assuring sentiments. He knows the gist of her situation, of course, but a clinical summary written in black and white never does justice to the agony that the heart suffers through. 

When she starts to open up about Kasumi and talks about the accident, his heart aches even more for the pain she so clearly harbors within herself. He can see the pain and anguish that swirls around her like a storm, drowning the poor girl in her own tears. It's no wonder she hasn’t been able to heal—how could anyone, with pain this intense and all encompassing? At this rate, it's only a matter of time before she does something wholly irreversible.

He knows, then, what he must do. What he has to do, so that she doesn’t have to live any longer under the crushing weight of her guilt and pain. At least then, she has the time to heal from the scars in her heart.

Before he can open his own mouth to ask what she wants, what would make her _happy_ —she gives the answer to him instead, the desperation in her voice only eclipsed by the pain that continues to show itself so clearly upon her face.

“Dr. Maruki, I… I want to become Kasumi.”

_I don’t want to continue living as my sister’s killer._

The implications are unspoken, but Takuto hears it nonetheless. Even knowing the truth, he fully understands what it means to live everyday of your life fully believing you were the reason somebody you love is gone, or wondering why you continue to live when they do not have the privilege of that same chance. 

The look Sumire gives him now is the exact same look he sees on his own face when he looks into the mirror on his lowest days. 

Not anymore, though. Nobody else deserves to have that kind of look on their face. 

Takuto nods. “...I know. And, I’m sure you can, too. Just… believe in yourself.”

He watches as Sumire closes his eyes, then takes in a deep breath himself before reaching back to that spark of _something_ he would later know to be Azathoth, then Adam Kadmon. It responds to him in turn, a solid pillar of stability and assurance, a compass that never fails in guiding him down the right path—or so that is what he believed back then. 

(Some nights he wakes up in a sweat, cheat heaving as his mind recalls the memory of Adam Kadmon drowning him in bliss, still making him believe he is wholly and utterly right while it seeks to destroy Kurusu and his companions without him knowing.

What a fool he’d been, to think that he was right.)

He feels it respond, and the air shifts, pulsating briefly before settling back down, and when Sumire opens her eyes back up Takuto smiles at the light that’s returned to them. 

(It’s only so much later when he realizes for himself how shallow and false that light had been, when Sumire looks at him across a crumbling expressway with a new, genuine fire in her eyes and tells him how she no longer desires to forget the pain she’d experienced.

Maybe that is what truly marked the beginning of the end for him.)

He watches quietly as she thanks him, then goes to retrieve a ribbon from her bag and ties up her hair. The moment she finishes Takuto can see the shift in her demeanor as her new cognition settles in. 

Kasumi Yoshizawa rises from the ashes of her sister’s broken spirit like a phoenix and smiles, her face now a picture of innocent, blissful happiness. 

Yes, he thought to himself then, as what would later be Azathoth hums a contented note in the back of his mind. Now, she will no longer suffer. And that is all he needs for him to be happy, too. 

A world without pain is a much better world indeed.

* * *

Rain continues to pelt heavily against the taxi while Takuto drives towards his passenger’s requested destination. The radio, while still playing, provides little comfort in filling the tense silence that’s fallen within the confines of the taxi since Takuto started driving.

Every second that passes by right now is another second wasted. Takuto knows that he has to try and do _something_ , but what that something is is another question entirely. Gone are the days now where he would have the courage to speak, especially when now all he can do is to second guess everything that he says and does. How could he not, after the wrongs that he’s committed? How could he ever be sure again that what he does now isn’t going to end up making things worse?

Still, the bigger crime would be to _not_ do anything. Takuto has enough regrets as it is; he would never forgive himself if he added even more due to his indecisiveness. That would be betraying the promises he’s made with Rumi.

(But he’s already betrayed her, hasn’t he? Right from the moment he made her forget about her parents.

How many wrongs has he wrought in his blind resolution of being _right_? Takuto thinks he may never truly know.)

“...so.” Takuto finally musters the strength to start speaking when he has to stop at a red light. He glances up to the rearview mirror, keeping an eye on his passenger as he carefully chooses his next words to speak. “Any… particular reason why you’re going out in this kind of weather?”

Even though he’s prepared himself for it, the lack of response still stings nevertheless. Without the authority of a counselor Takuto definitely feels himself deflating a lot faster than he would have in a session—but still, he knows he can’t stop here. A little bump like this is nothing compared to the other things that’ve brought him down. 

He glances over to the traffic light to make sure it's still red before addressing them again. “I—I mean, I’m certainly not going to complain about having some work at a time like this! If anything I guess I’m lucky to even have a passenger right now, ahaha…”

Takuto trails off with a sigh. Just what is he trying to do here, really? Maybe he shouldn’t beat around the bush and ask them directly? Not exactly the best idea, but… he remembers, sometimes, how some of his patients would rather have a frank conversation instead of being treated with kid gloves. Takuto has always been one to err on the side of caution, but perhaps that carefulness is doing the opposite effect, in this case. 

(He tries to not think too hard of the obvious parallels that could be made here. 

A sneer lets itself be known from the back of his mind, sounding so very much like Akechi, of all people.

_This is what I meant by your high and mighty bullshit._ )

The light ahead of him turns green. Takuto stares at it for a moment before he gets the taxi moving again, ignoring how loud the rain sounds now as it continues the storm continues to rain down heavily while thunder rumbles ominously in the distance. 

As he drives Takuto considers his options once more. The option to get straight to the point is there, but he still wants to see if there’s anything else he can do first before he actually decides to go for it. Others might call it delaying the inevitable—and they are, well… not wrong, he supposes, but even if he has to be truthful there is still such a thing as tact and consideration to the other party—

“You can stop here.”

Takuto startles upon hearing the voice. After the extended silence he hadn’t really expected them (her? The voice did sound feminine to him, though on a lower register compared to the norm) to speak at all, so the fact that they have is… promising? Even if what they were saying was…

He chases a quick glance up to the rearview mirror, only to be surprised again when he sees that his passenger is now looking back at him—albeit through the dark shadows of the drawn up hood of their hoodie. Even so, the moment they notice his gaze they quickly duck back down, breaking any chance of eye contact. 

“...stop here, please.” They say once more, this time with barely disguised urgency. 

Takuto purses his lips together, not quite here what to do now. He wishes this would mean that they’ve somehow changed their mind, but just like before his gut is telling him that this is not what’s happening. 

“...there’s no space to stop here.” That answer is a bit of a lie; the free spots _are_ occupied, but if he really wanted to, Takuto knows he could probably use one of the reserved ones just to drop somebody off it probably would be fine, especially in this kind of weather. “And it’s hard to say if there’s going to be any good spot nearby to pull over when it's raining this hard.”

A lengthy silence comes after that. Takuto continues to drive, attempting to focus over the sound of his heart pounding thunderously against his ribcage. He can feel the tension building up in his body just from having to be untruthful. While he doesn’t condone the principle of lying, having to do it himself certainly does make him more than a little uncomfortable, even if he knows he’s doing it for a valid reason. Lying _is_ still lying, at the end of the day. 

( _Were you not lying to yourself before then,_ the Akechi-sounding part of him sneers once again, darkness slithering itself deeper into the cracks within him. _Was not everything you had done one giant lie?_

He wants to say _no, of course not_ , but the words do not come no matter how hard he tries.)

Another red light. Takuto is forced to bring the taxi to a pause as they wait for the lights to shift back. With the vehicle no longer in motion the rumble of the engine becomes noticeably quieter, which in turn only makes Takuto even more aware of how loudly his heart still beats in his chest. His body has never been great when he gets nervous. 

His hands begin to tremble against the wheel once more. Takuto takes another breath and attempts to steel himself just like before. He’s fine. He’s fine. He can do this. He has to.

As Takuto tries to calm himself down he hears his passenger shuffling about in the back seat. But before he can look up to the rearview mirror to see what they’re doing, they speak up again. “...you know, don’t you.”

The question catches him off guard. “H-Huh?” His pulse races as his nervousness racks up. If they’re aware that he _is_ aware, then what can he even do now? At this point nothing he says or does is going to this better—

“Don’t—” Pause. A sharp intake of breath. “Don’t play dumb. You… you know. What I want to do.”

Takuto stares down at the company logo that’d been engraved onto the middle of the wheel. He worries on his bottom lip as he considers how to respond—though it's less of the content of said response and more of the… direction, if that is the right word, on how to take. 

It’s almost too easy for Takuto to imagine how they feel right now. Embarrassment, fear, guilt… and beyond that, so much hate for themselves. For being so weak, so terrible, and so hopeless that the only path they can see is the one leading to their end. 

It’s so easy to picture it all, because Takuto had been there too, not so long ago. And even though it's better now… the bad days are still just as hard, just as painful. It’s so easy to scream and shout when emotions blind you so thoroughly, to let the anger boil as you break and ruin and destroy because that’s how you know you’re here. You leave lasting marks of your hatred and rage, be it on an inanimate object or another living being or even on yourself.

It’s easy to be there, and even easier to give in, but… Takuto knows he has to be better than that. He can’t let those feelings take over, because if he does then he’ll never be able to find the tomorrow that he seeks. 

“Yes, I know,” he rasps out eventually, suddenly feeling so very tired. “And I—I want to help. If I can.”

A shuddering breath. “H— _Help_?” Even with their shaky voice the sound of their disbelief is all too obvious. “You don’t even—”

“I know.” The reflection of the raindrops tell Takuto that the light is already green, but he can’t bring himself to get the car moving again. The only blessing is that there isn’t any traffic, so he won’t be holding up anyone behind him. “I know I… don’t know anything at all about your situation, but I can’t—I can’t play dumb and pretend that I’m _not_ driving you to where you want to die.”

All Takuto gets in response to that is a pained sob, followed by a sniffle. “Yeah… that’s what I figured,” they murmur out, loathing oozing out with every word. “Just like everyone else.”

Those particular words catch Takuto’s attention—enough for him to turn around to actually look at his passenger properly. They’ve curled themselves up at one side of the backseat, with their back against the door and their head between their knees. The position has caused the hood over their head to be haphazardly pushed off halfway, revealing messy, dark red hair. 

For the briefest of moments Yoshizawa’s name almost slips through his lips, but Takuto quickly stops himself before that happens and takes a second, closer look. The color is definitely similar, but that’s about where the similarities end. Just based on what he sees it's enough to figure out that this person doesn’t have long hair the same way Yoshizawa does; it's also styled rather andygrously—which compliments well with them, since they do look like they could be either male or female.

Not that any of that matters. What really gets his attention is what they’ve just said, which Taukto repeats back with a questioning look. “‘Just like everyone else’?” What exactly did they mean by that?

To Takuto’s surprise, he actually gets a response to his question. They raise their head up from between their knees and glares at him with eyes full of resentment and loathing. 

“You don’t really _care_ ,” they spit out, and even in the dim lighting Takuto can see tears starting to reappear at the corners of their eyes. “You don’t really want to stop me. You’re just pretending because that’s what society says you should do. So that you don’t feel guilty when you sleep at night.”

...Takuto has no idea where any of that is coming from, but he doesn’t even need to have been a counselor to know that there’s a lot more behind those words than he can probably guess. It’s all too easy to hear the hurt and the pain in them, and it resonates with the hollowness inside of him that had once been filled by Azathoth. 

It still hurts, knowing what he’s lost, but Takuto knows he still has to try. To not do so would be disrespecting what the Phantom Thieves had fought so hard for. It is only right to follow their wishes, for it is they who won back this reality, as painful and as imperfect as it is. 

“Even if society would’ve said otherwise, I would still try to stop you,” he responds cautiously. He doesn’t take his gaze away from them, wanting to ensure that anything he says or does doesn’t cause them to spiral even more. “I can’t speak for anyone else, but I personally wouldn’t wish for anyone to take their own life.”

They take in a shaky breath. “Even if they’re the most horrible, terrible person on the planet who doesn’t deserve to live at all?”

It’s not hard to guess who they’re referring to as the ‘most horrible, terrible person on the planet’. If not from the intensified loathing in their voice, then the way their knuckles turn white as they dig their nails into their skin. 

“...even then,” Takuto answers after a pause. “Because from my experience, those kinds of people usually turn out to be the kindest, most genuine people I have had the privilege of knowing.” Yoshizawa herself is one of them, for even after she knew what Takuto had done to her she still chose to forgive him nevertheless, and had even thanked him for it. That heartfelt gratitude still burns in his mind on some days as the darkness in him snarls, reminding him of all the wrongs he’d done. Somebody like him doesn’t _deserve_ gratitude from those he’s hurt.

It’s probably because of those feelings that he can relate to what his passenger is saying; the self-hatred, the desire to push away anything that might even be anything close to a compliment because you so thoroughly believe that you don’t deserve it in the slightest. Even before all of this, it's always been something that had lingered at the back of his mind. The belief that he doesn’t deserve to be happy again after what he let happen to Rumi. 

The dream of a reality without pain—that’d been his way of making amends, to let everyone live in such a paradise where negative emotions would be nothing more than a thing of the past. 

But that’s all gone now. All lost, crushed and destroyed and scattered like dust upon the wind, leaving Takuto behind with nothing except a long list of his own personal failures. 

Still, in the end, the world continues to turn. Tomorrow still comes—even if it's not for him. 

His passenger lets out a sad, subdued sound that might have been a laugh in any other circumstances. “...I wish I’d have met you sooner.” 

The regret in their voice is something that Takuto can empathize with heavily—enough for him to respond with a shake of his head. “It’s never too late,” he assures them, doing his best to smile as he says that. 

Not that it does anything to lessen the sting when he sees their lips twist into a wry, sardonic smile. “You know that’s a lie.”

...Takuto can’t really say anything to defend himself there. Not when it's clear to the both of them how true the words are. It’s always easy to say such platitudes, but reality has and will never be that simple. It’s a painful lesson Takuto has had to learn, over and over again, from Rumi to Shido to Kurusu. Pain, betrayal, regret. 

Something must have shown on his face, because their expression shifts to something closer to pained regret, a reflection of the face Takuto sees sometimes when he looks at a mirror. 

“...sorry,” they say after a moment’s pause, and then takes in another shuddering breath. “Fuck. This is why I—I should just—”

Takuto quickly cuts them off before they can finish. “It’s… it’s alright.” He’s far too aware of how uncertain his own voice sounds right now but it's fine. It’s fine. Right now there’s somebody else who needs him more, and he can focus his energies on that. 

He turns back forward to face the dashboard and flicks off the fare meter, which has been steadily increasing while all of this is happening. At the corner of his vision the traffic lights flick green again after having run through several rounds while he’d been stalled here. It’s surprising enough that no traffic’s happened through all this, but Takuto figures he shouldn’t push his luck any longer.

He glances back to his passenger as he shifts the taxi into gear. “I… let me park somewhere more appropriate, and then we can just talk, okay? No matter what you decide, you at least deserve the space to air out your grievances to somebody.”

There’s silence again, but from the rearview mirror Takuto can see the watery stare that they’re currently giving to him. Takuto elects to maintain his silence and focuses on getting them out of the main roads, hoping that he can soon find somewhere a bit more out of the way to park so that they can have whatever time they need.

It’s only after ten minutes when Takuto hears them sniffle and murmurs an ‘okay’ that only he can hear, despite them being the only two people in the taxi. 

Takuto has no idea if what he’s doing is for the best, but he figures that this is at least one step forward, maybe. 

All he can do is try.

* * *

The storm pelts down even harder than before by the time Takuto manages to find a place to park the taxi, but given that it's in the vicinity of Inokashira Park it means said parking place isn’t sheltered. Still, Takuto supposes he can only take what he can get; the only good thing is that he’s managed to stop driving before the rain made visibility go all the way down to zero.

He doesn’t kill the engine since both he and his passenger are going to have to stay inside here until the storm finally blows over, but he makes sure to put the gear to rest and locks the pedals to make sure he doesn’t accidentally make the car move due to his foot or something equally embarrassing. 

Once Takuto has ensured that everything is in order does he finally turn his attention back to his passenger. They hadn’t really moved much from their position against the door (which is of course, now locked just so they don’t fall out, be it by accident or choice), though they did stop sniffling about halfway through the drive here. Hard to say if that’s good or bad however, since there is only so long a human can keep on crying physiologically. 

Takuto takes his chances and ventures out a careful question. “Are you alright?”

They raise their head from their knees. “...don’t need to pretend to be nice,” they mutter out, their tone now mostly devoid of emotion. An emotional shutdown after traumatic response, in all likelihood. Not unexpected, but still just as concerning.

“I assure you, I’m not pretending.” Takuto knows, however, that words can only go so far; still, it is all he can rely on right now. “Like I said earlier, you deserve to have a space to air out your grievances to somebody, even if…” He trails off there, unable to bring himself to finish that sentence. Just the fact that one is alive and living in the world is a miracle by itself; the astronomical chances of a person being able to exist with how they look and think and feel. So to imagine that there are people who would want to throw away that chance is… 

Things like these were why he’d been so determined with his research into the cognitive psience, to find means and ways to help heal the metaphorical heart so that people would be able to live their lives to the fullest. To heal their pain and ease their suffering—burdens that usually were so unfairly placed upon them. 

But somewhere along those lines, he’d gone down the wrong path. His determination had turned into obsession, and then antagonism when he turned his back against reality and sought to create his own. It’d felt so right back then, but now… 

He knows better now, but it still hurts. It still hurts so much, especially in times like these when he’s faced with the truth of how powerless he is. 

It takes a moment for Takuto to realize that his passenger is staring at him while he’d fallen into silence. Takuto shakes his head and forces himself to finish what he’d intended to say. “...I can’t stop you from whatever you want to do. But at least make sure you have no regrets going forward.”

A crooked smile appears on their face. “You’re not going to say how life is precious and shouldn’t be wasted just because I ‘feel sad’?”

“I’m not here to cast judgement on you.” Because god knows how _that_ turns out; it’s a lesson Takuto has learned from his early days as a counselor. “I just hope you’ll be able to see this as an opportunity to voice out everything inside you with complete honesty. Whatever you do after that is your own decision.”

“...putting the onus on me, huh?” Another sad, tired laugh. “Still… you’re not wrong. Whatever I choose to do, it's my own responsibility. Even if it means ending my own life.”

Despite knowing their intentions, hearing them speaking about something like suicide so frankly still makes him wince a little inside. It would be hypocritical of him to abhor it, but… it's hard to not think about Yoshizawa in this instance, and remember what he’d done then to intervene. He can’t do that anymore, of course; and even if he could, it is no longer his place to step in.

Takuto gives himself a moment before speaking. “Do you want to talk about why…?” Not exactly the most tactful thing to say, but then again it's impossible to ever be tactful about a subject like this. 

They don’t seem to mind it, however. “...I’m just so tired of everything.” They fold their arms over their knees and bury their face into the gap. “Even I can admit that I’m being impulsive, but it's… it’s hard to keep thinking about tomorrow when I don’t even know how to get through today.”

That’s a sentiment that, well… that Takuto finds himself resonating with perhaps a bit too much. He swallows down the lump that’d quickly formed in his throat and blinks back the tears that threaten to come out. He can deal with his own feelings later, after all of this. “I… I understand it. That feeling, I mean.”

Another moment of silence from them, only broken when thunder rumbles from the distance. They sigh heavily and raise their head back up, resting their chin on their folded arms. 

“How do you deal with it, then?” they ask. “Going through each day, telling yourself that tomorrow will be better than what you have now—but then tomorrow comes and you’re still the same pitiful, useless person from before. A nobody that not even your own family appreciates because all they see you is nothing more than a punching bag to vent their frustrations on. Who can’t even hold onto any friendships because they’ve been led to believe how everything in their lives is transient and bound to disappear eventually.”

As they speak their voice gets shaky again, and by the end of it Takuto can see it's taking them monumental effort to keep their words steady even as their breaths begin to hitch. “How can somebody like me live on when there’s nothing to hold onto? When I can’t even… can’t even think of myself as somebody worthy of anything at all.” Their fists clench tight again, knuckles turning white. “F-Fuck. I can’t—”

They cut themselves off then, but Takuto sees the fresh tears rolling down their face once more. His heart hurts so much for the pain they’re so clearly showing, the sadness that has swallowed them whole—the disappointment in himself for being unable to do anything but listen. Pain like this is why he wanted to change reality to remove all suffering, to give people the chance to live the lives they want instead of wallowing in anguish. But that is nothing but a broken dream that will never come true again. 

What use is he now, when he knows that his dream is something that would never be accepted? 

The answers continue to elude him.

Takuto turns away from them, the lump in his throat making yet another appearance, refusing to disappear. Another reminder of the failure that he has to live with. 

“...I can’t give you any answers,” is what he eventually manages to say, because even though he has nothing they deserve something more than that. “And it’s not because it's something like ‘you have to find them’ or anything else that’s equally cliche. I mean, I can’t deny the truth in that as well, but…”

He pauses again. Thunder continues to rumble, though still far away enough that the sound of the rain masks most of it. The hollow beats of the raindrops hitting against the metallic frame of the taxi rings in his ears over and over again, an empty tune that perfectly describes him inside. 

( _three punches to the face._

_in the end, that’s all it took._

_everything hurts, yet takuto continues to try and will himself to_ move _—to keep on going because he can’t stop, he still can’t stop, he might have lost everything already but if he keeps going he can—_

_but he can’t. his whole body hurts too much to take even one step further. takuto knows that his next step will be his last._

_he screams, allowing himself one last emotional outburst, letting himself let out all his pain and hurt and frustrations and anger until it all burns out from him. and after that, when it's over… he lets himself fall._

_takuto falls onto his knees, then on his back, so worn out and exhausted that he doesn’t even register the dull shock of pain that comes when he slams onto the ground with the full weight of his body._

_the silence that follows is deafening. takuto knows that kurusu is standing nearby, just as tired out himself, but unlike him he is still on his feet. because he has the strength to stand up, to face a reality that takuto had been all too willing to cast aside because it’d hurt too much to continue living in it._

_he stares up at the night sky. snow rains down from above, and every one of those snowflakes is a beautiful pattern of frozen fractals that is wholly unique to each one._

_takuto raises his hand and catches one of them in his palm, but even before he is able to look at it he feels the brief flash of cold against his skin and knows that it has already melted. a miracle of nature right there, in the palm of his hand, and it vanishes even before he’d had the chance to appreciate it._

_perfection, he thinks, was truly never meant to last, no matter how he had wished otherwise._

_tears start to prick at the corners of his vision. takuto closes his eyes as his arm falls back onto the ground at his side, knowing that when he opens them again nothing will ever be the same again._

_“I’m done. I get it now.”_ )

The familiar sting of tears come again to his eyes. Takuto forces himself to close them before they can let loose. 

“I’m trying to find my way too,” he finally allows himself to admit, voice shakier than he would have liked it to be. “Just like you. I also want to have a new reason to live on, now that I’ve lost everything.”

He can’t bring himself to look back after having said that. Shame burns hot inside of him as his mind recalls failure after failure, regret after regret. So many of them, none of them consolable. All of them are burdens that he’ll have to carry for the rest of his life as penance for what he’s done—and even then he doesn’t know if that will be enough. It feels like nothing he does will ever be enough.

Takuto doesn’t know how long the silence after his response goes on, his mind far more occupied with trying to keep himself together, however haphazard it is. But eventually it's broken—not by him, but by his passenger, who gives another one of their sad, tired chuckles.

“You were trying to help me, but in the end you’ve gone off and lost it yourself.” The words may be mocking but their tone is a whole different story. “God. What a pair we make.”

Takuto can’t quite stop himself from sniffling even if he tried. He rubs his eyes with the sleeve of his uniform and finally lets himself look back at them. “I’m sorry. I know I said I was here to hear you out…”

They shake their head. “No, it's… it's okay.” Their expression turns apologetic after that. “I know it probably won’t mean much after all the trouble I’ve already caused you, but… I’m sorry, for whatever happened to you.”

“Don’t be.” Takuto responds, shaking his own head too. “What happened to me… I bought it upon myself.”

“...well, even so.” Their gaze flickers briefly, darting about Takuto’s face before settling to meet his gaze. “I can tell you’re not a bad person. Whatever you did, I’m sure you only did it because you thought it was for the best, right? It might’ve been a mistake at the end, but… everyone makes mistakes anyway. Some more terrible than others… but that’s just how things go.”

It would be easy for Takuto to argue against their point, but in the end it would be useless. And… he does understand what they are trying to say. Even if his own situation can’t be resolved that simply… it’s still at least something to keep in mind. 

“...thank you,” he eventually manages to say, as he tries his best to give them a smile. It’s probably more crooked than anything else, but it's better than nothing. 

The returning smile that they give him is just as crooked as how he felt with his own. “No problem,” they return, and then add on, more sheepishly. “And, well… I guess hearing you being honest helped to give me some perspective on my own shit too. Not that I wasn’t already aware of it, but… it helps, hearing that I’m not alone. So… thanks.”

Not alone. Takuto has certainly told his patients something along those lines before himself, but he supposes this is the first time he’s properly felt what it meant. It’s always so easy to say something even if he knows that it's true, but experiencing it for yourself truly is a different thing altogether. 

The smile Takuto has this time feels decidedly less plastered on. “I could say the same for you, too.”

He gets another lopsided smile in return, then watches as they take in a slow, deep breath and slowly let it out. It takes a second for him to realize that it's the standard breathing practises he usually gave to his patients who needed it. 

They do it several more times before finally looking back to Takuto. “...I know it's already been a while, but would it be alright if I switched where I want to alight?”

That, at least, is something he can do. “Of course. Where do you want to go?”

* * *

The rain has lightened to a drizzle by the time Takuto gets back to his apartment. After such a fierce storm and with the evening approaching the air is cool, crisp and clear, and it fills Takuto with a certain lightness that he can feel in his feet as he climbs up the stairs to his floor. 

It’s strange, how being able to share something with someone, even a stranger, can make things feel… better, even if it is just for a bit. In the end he never did get their name, but perhaps that might’ve been for the best. 

Not everything has to be perfect, after all.

He thinks about what to do for dinner when he turns around the corner and sees Shibusawa standing right outside the door to his place. He turns around the moment he hears Takuto’s footsteps, and something in his stomach sinks when he sees the tight expression on his friend’s face—the one that only shows itself when he’s about to tell him something very, very bad. “I’m guessing you didn’t get my message.”

Takuto blinks. “What message—” he starts, but is then cut off when his phone buzzes in his pocket, notification tone ringing to signal that he has indeed gotten a message.

The uncertainty continues to rise within Takuto as he pulls his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it without sparing it a glance. The screen flicks on properly, already showing the message that Shibusawa had sent him, and Takuto’s eyes widen the moment he reads it as the same uncertainty turns into full on dread, and then shock.

> `**FROM:** Shibusawa  
>  _Received 17:44_`
> 
> ` _Rumi’s dead._ `

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was, uh, very hard to write for a lot of reasons, even though I knew this was coming.
> 
> Honestly part of me hesitated on posting this just because of the discussion of the subject matter, but in the end I remind myself that this story is really for myself first and foremost, and I think I will regret it in the future if I don't post it here for myself to reread this in the future.
> 
> Anyway, uh. One last part left, and its probably gonna be just as heavy for me to write, so it might take a while. Thanks for all the support and comments this fic has been getting, and appreciate the patience as I get to the last bit of this wild ride of a post game fic.


	5. may, somnus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** Heavy angst, implications/mentions of suicide and suicide ideation that ultimately culminates in an (unsuccessful) suicide attempt that is portrayed here. Again, if such topics are triggering/uncomfortable for you, feel free to skip.

Rain.

Takuto had never been fond of it, even as a child. Where others look upon rain as a symbol of cleaning, of new beginnings and forgetting the old, Takuto had always seen it otherwise.

For him, rain was a terrible, spiteful thing; nature’s way of mocking the life that inhabited it, for it is because the rain that the sun hides itself away. Fields of verdant green reduced to dull, misty grey as the clouds cover up the sky and let loose heaven’s downpour. 

_Angel’s tears,_ his mother had called them, when Takuto asked about the meaning of rain when he was still a child. _God and his angels are crying for us, because our fate is to suffer until the day salvation comes._

He’d believed it, of course, just as every child would’ve when their parents were the center of their world—or, in Takuto’s case, parent, singular. His father met with an accident when he was but a month old, leaving both of them behind, so all Takuto really knew was his mother. She was a strong-willed woman, taking the burden of raising her child alone without complaint, but even she had her limits. That was when she turned to religion for support, with her piousness deepening in her later years. 

That was about the same time Takuto had started to throw himself deep into the study of cognitive psience. The clash between them was perhaps inevitable, though eventually Takuto simply learned not to bring up anything of his studies when he visited her.

Maybe it was then when the first inklings of his dream stirred in his mind. Religion, for his mother, had been a clutch—a clutch to deal with the grief of losing her husband and the stress of having to raise her son alone in a society that frowned upon single mothers back in the day. If those negative emotions could be dealt with, would she not have turned to religion, then? Could she actually have had the chance to live a better life, one that wasn’t filled with regrets and sacrifices?

The answers hadn’t come to him then—not even when his mother finally succumbs to a long fought battle against the cancer inhabiting her body. The funeral afterwards had been a simple affair, and the priest’s words had been downed out by the storm raging outside the church she had chosen to leave her ashes in.

But even after all of that had been said and done, Takuto continues to try and search for his answer. He throws himself even deeper into the field of cognitive psience, learning whatever he can in order to find what he seeks. Rumi continues to support him through it all, her presence giving him strength unlike any other. Having her at his side is a blessing he knows never to take for granted; he remembers how nervous he’d been when he decided to confess to her back in high school. 

In the end, he did it on one of their trips to the wildflower field. It’d been a wonderful, sunny day, and the sky had never been so blue and beautiful—a complete opposite to the heavy, oppressive grey that hung low on the day where he’d intended to visit Rumi and her parents as a surprise and had instead stumbled onto the scene of a ruthless murder that left Rumi irrevcoably broken.

The rain made identifying the culprit hard at first, since any tracks they left would have been washed away, but fortunately there was enough evidence left inside the house to identify and catch who did it. Still, even then, Takuto knows that nothing can be done to fix the damage that has already been done. Rumi will never get her family back, and she will always live with that pain forever.

—at least, that’s what Takuto believed, until he was granted the power to make things right. 

Empowered, Takuto devotes himself to his research more than ever, desperate to seek out the answers that now felt so much closer to him. If he could find it—if he could grasp the truth in his hands—

It finally comes to him after years of failure, of being stymied and thwarted at every turn. It materializes before him in the form of Azathoth on the day where the sky turned red and blood rained down onto the earth.

He should have guessed by then that any momentous occasion in his life marked by rain would inevitably be doomed to fail.

* * *

The day of the funeral had been fittingly marked by a thunderstorm. It rages cacophonously outside, loud enough that it could still be heard from inside the temple.

Even so, it is all that Takuto could hear, the sound of the pouring rain filling up his head like static as he listlessly stares at the altar in front, beautifully adorned with numerous bouquets and arrangements of wildflowers. In the center of it all stands Rumi’s portrait—older now, of course, and with a breathtaking smile on her face that Takuto knows is not for him.

No, that smile is for the man that’s standing right behind the monk presiding over the wake. Takuto had seen him earlier from afar as he wept before the altar shortly before the ceremony began, the ring on his finger gleaming from the lights in the ceiling. 

It shouldn’t have been so surprising, considering everything, yet somehow knowing that it's true only makes everything _worse_.

Shibusawa sat next to him throughout the entire ceremony, steadfastly remaining silent. He only speaks when Rumi’s husband comes over to where they are after the ceremony, his eyes bloodshot and watery.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” he starts, “I know Rumi drifted apart from you all shortly after she graduated, but she always told me how much she missed her friends there. I know she’ll appreciate the both of you taking the time to be here.”

“We should be thanking you instead for informing us about this,” Shibusawa responds, ever the voice of diplomacy. “Rumi was a very close friend of ours. We’re both incredibly sorry for the loss of your wife.”

He nudges Takuto with an elbow after those words, and even then it still takes a good moment before Takuto realizes that he’s being prodded to say something as well.

“Um… yes,” he fumbles out, every word on his tongue seemingly as heavy as lead. “I’m… sorry for your loss. Rumi was… a good friend.”

Shibusawa lets out a slow breath. “Sorry,” he apologizes on his behalf. “Maruki’s still worn out from the trip we made to get here. Both of us kinda had to take leave from work at the last minute, so…”

“No, it's alright,” the man quickly assures them. “Like I said, everything was on short notice, so I completely understand.”

“Still, it must have been hard.” Shibusawa pauses briefly, as if trying to muster himself for what he says next. “For her to suddenly…”

A shuddering intake from Rumi’s husband. “...yes,” he manages out, pain seeping into his voice now. “I still don’t understand why it happened. She’d been managing her depression so well in the last few weeks too…”

Rumi had depression? Takuto’s attention immediately snaps over to the conversation that’s happening now, breath caught in his throat as his mind runs through a multitude of possibilities of what happened to Rumi. She should’ve been fine, it’d been _years_ since her cognition had been changed, so why—

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Shibusawa murmurs next to him. “Regardless, I’m sure Rumi wouldn’t want you to blame yourself for what happened. You did the best you could for her.”

“...thank you.” Rumi’s husband sniffles, then takes in another shaky breath. “I just wish… I knew what set it off. Why she felt that she had to…” 

He trails off, unable to finish the thought. Takuto can’t blame him for that—not when he also has the exact same problem. Rumi was supposed to be _happy_. Takuto had made sure of it, so why is any of this even happening…?

Shibusawa hums quietly. “She’s in a better place now, Arai-san. She’ll no longer have to suffer.”

“...yes, you’re right.” Rumi’s hus—Arai—closes his eyes and nods minutely. “And I guess she can finally be with her parents, like what she wished for.”

A familiar dread roots itself at the pit of Takuto’s stomach upon hearing those words. “Parents?” he asks while finally glancing up to properly look at Arai, who is promptly confused by both the reaction and the question. 

Nevertheless, he answers. “Yes. She told me that they passed away when she was young, but for some reason she suddenly brought them up around the start of February.”

The dread in Takuto intensifies—the start of February… that had been when he’d faced Kurusu and the others; their fight to determine which reality would triumph. The fight that Takuto had subsequently lost, and with it his Persona—as well as his power to overwrite cognition.

The timing couldn’t have been mere coincidence. Did Rumi die because of…?

Arai’s words continue to wash over him as Takuto struggles to comprehend the full weight of his sins.

_“She told me how she had betrayed them, and that she doesn’t deserve to keep on living because of that. It wasn’t very long after that she was officially diagnosed with depression. I helped to get her a therapist, and she even had medication prescribed to her. For a while it seemed like things were going fine, but then suddenly…”_

The beginning of February. Takuto had faced the Phantom Thieves and lost the fight. The reality he had worked so hard for had crumbled into pieces following his defeat, and Adam Kadmon with it. And at the same time Rumi suddenly remembered the incident that had lost her her parents, with all the trauma that came with it. Trauma that she had forgotten, and had never worked through. Grief so overwhelming that it must have swallowed her whole, especially after realizing that she had…

No, Rumi hadn’t done anything wrong. It was Takuto who made it all happen. _He_ was the one who made her forget. _He_ was the one who changed her memory. _He_ was the one who denied her the chance to properly grieve.

And now, Rumi is dead because of what _he_ has done.

Suddenly, the world wavers around him. Takuto feels sick to the stomach, and bile rises to the back of his throat, ready to spew out of him at any moment. He doubles over, a hand covering his mouth as he tries to squash down the nausea overwhelming him to little success.

Both Shibusawa and Arai flinch in surprise at the reaction, though it's his friend who asks the dreaded question. “Maruki? What’s going on?”

Takuto would answer, but he doesn’t trust himself to speak now when it could mean him puking his guts out. But the fact that he _doesn’t_ respond only makes it worse, because now the words are swirling in his mind, repeating itself in an endless echo.

_I killed Rumi. I killed her. She’s dead because of me._

The truth and weight of those words burn into him, every loop further intensifying the guilt that Takuto feels. Eventually it's all too much, and all he can do is turn and run away, ignoring the shocked, panicked shouts from Shibusawa. 

He runs as fast as he can, legs and chest burning as he flees from the temple, dashing into the storm that’s still raging outside. He pays no heed to the rain that soaks through his suit, doesn’t care that the water has ruined them. All he can think of is to _run_ , to simply get away from all of this as fast and as far as he could possibly manage.

In the distance he hears Shibusawa yell out his name again, but Takuto can’t bring himself to care. He just wants to get out of here.

He raises his hand and flags down the first taxi that comes down the street, then gets in, cutting off the sound of Shibusawa’s voice when he slams the door shut.

The driver gives him a look for the rearview mirror, but doesn’t comment on it. “Where to?” comes the question instead.

The answer comes to Takuto easily. “Away,” he mutters out, his hand dropping down from his face. “Far away.”

Anywhere but here.

* * *

‘Away’, in the end, turns out to be the train station that Takuto had arrived at from Tokyo. The driver had given him another concerned look when Takuto paid the fair, but wisely decided to remain silent. All he did is to wish him a good day before driving off, most likely in search of less troublesome customers. 

Takuto would apologize for it, but his mind remained stuck on a loop—stuck on the realization of what he has done and the sin he will have to carry with him for the rest of his life. Rumi’s blood will always be on his hands now, and he deserves it as much as he hates it. 

He just wants to disappear. To get away from all this—the guilt and shame and pain. It’s all too much to bear.

Takuto glances around at his surroundings. He spots a car rental service near the train station, and the idea clicks in his mind. What better way is there to get away from all this than to drive himself to a place where nobody could find him? Surely, there had to be a place in Japan where he could disappear.

Takuto had never been one for impulsive decisions, but right now impulses were all that drove him to act. He goes to the establishment and rents himself a car for the weekend, paying it with his card without a second thought. The owner goes through the usual regulations with him, which Takuto barely pays attention to, only caring for the moment when he gets the keys. 

Once that happens Takuto doesn’t waste another second; he fumbles out a quick thanks to the proprietor and gets into the rented vehicle, jamming the keys into the ignition and starts the car. The moment he hears the engine start he puts his foot down onto the pedal, taking off to wherever he wants to go. 

Not that Takuto has much of a destination in mind; all he knows is that he wants to get away from here. To get away from everyone and everything, as far and as fast as possible. Everything else can come later… if that even matters anymore. Nothing is worth it now with Rumi dead, her life extinguished by his own hands. 

But even as he drives he can’t escape the prison of his own mind; the cavern of his own loathsome thoughts that echo the same thing over and over again. Did she think about him, in her final moments? And if she did so, was it because she hated him? Loathed him for what he did? Cursed him for what he’d done to her, to cause her so much anguish that she saw no other way out except suicide?

 _Suicide_. The word burns in his mind, festers on his tongue like poison. He’s always hated that word, despised it's existence and what it stood for, what it meant, for in the past to hear that word is a mark of failure in his eyes. A sign to him showing his continued powerlessness against all the injustices and cruelties of this harsh world that everyone was unwillingly stuck in. Sure, he could help the people under his care, but that was about the extent of his reach. There were so many more out there who didn’t have the help they needed and deserved.

That powerlessness burned him as much as it propelled him to move forward. To keep going until he could find a way to help the many instead of just the one. He remembers the delight in his soul when Azathoth showed him the full potential of the cognitive world, of how he could reach the masses via Mementos and finally achieve his lifelong goal. The feeling had been so novel, so wonderful, so perfect. It’d been a bliss that Takuto could live in forever.

Months ago, he’d been at the height of his life. Now, he’s long past rock bottom, falling deeper and deeper into an abyss that he can never climb out of. He’d felt hopeless before, but this feeling is way beyond that. 

More than ever, now Takuto sees why people would turn to suicide. It is more than an ending—it is an escape. An escape from neverending suffering, a resolute peace after what feels like a lifetime of agony. It is control, when everything else in your life has spiraled out of it.

He wonders, with morbid curiosity, what would it be like if he drove off a cliff and somewhere and let himself drop into deep waters below. To feel the way water would fill up his lungs as he drowns in a steel coffin of his own choosing. How long it would take for anyone to find his bloated, rotting corpse after he is long gone. Would anyone even miss him? Or would they be glad that they no longer needed to concern themselves with him?

Takuto isn’t sure if he wants to know the answer.

( _“I must have always been… afraid. Afraid you and I wouldn’t wish for the same reality…”_ )

He’s always been afraid of so many things.

( _“Why…”_

_it’s all that takuto can choke out the moment he catches his breath. in front of him are the phantom thieves, standing triumphant in their victory against him. the torch in kurusu’s hand is proof of that. behind him lies the crumbling remains of his Palace, now fracturing itself apart along with the rest of his perfectly crafted reality._

_soon, it’ll all be gone._

_it’s that knowledge that makes him grit his teeth, eyes squeezed shut in order to block off the hot stings forming at the corners of his eyes as he continues to speak. “I gave up everything else… I dedicated all that I have to this… but I still…_ why? _”_

_“Because you’re still running away from the past.”_

_the answer shocks takuto enough to open his eyes and raise his head, looking straight ahead to see kurusu in front of him. his mask has been pushed up to rest on top of his head, and so takuto can see the seriousness in his expression, the grim determination set in his features._

_takuto slowly pushes himself up to his feet, using his staff as a crutch. he doesn’t take his gaze away from kurusu. “I’m… running from…”_

_something in kurusu’s gaze shifts, and in that moment, takuto understands. he lets out a weak, tired laugh._

_“You nailed it,” he admits. “It’s true that I turned my back on the original reality…_ but where’s the harm in that? _”_

_kurusu and the rest of the thieves flinch at the anger imbued in his last words, but takuto doesn’t waver. knowing that he’s lost, that he’s doomed to return to a cruel reality that crushes countless beneath their heel without remorse… it hurts too much for him to keep it in._

_the hot sting comes to his eyes again. this time, takuto lets it happen, his vision becoming watery as he continues. “When it grows to be too much, too painful… every person deserves to escape that!”_

_the mask on his face feels so heavy. takuto wants to do nothing more than to take it off, but his body hurts too much for him to even do that. just standing upright is a struggle by itself._

_still, takuto doesn’t let himself fall. he’s already lost too much tonight. anything more would truly spell the end._

_“In all honesty, it’s best for a person’s grown when they tackle their own hardships.” it's something that’s tried and true, a fact of life told over time and time again. conflict is always inevitable in a person’s life. conflict helps people grow. conflict allows people to overcome challenges as they face the world around them. conflict is a necessity. but all the same… “But reality doesn’t always make that so feasible!”_

_memories flash by his mind’s eye, one by one. rumi’s hollow eyes and broken expression. his own anguish when his life’s work had been stopped by shido. the pain when he first met yoshizawa, who now stands with the thieves with her own strength. a strength, takuto knows now, he never had from the beginning._

_“No matter how much you try, or work for so long, the smallest injustice can wipe it all out, leave you with nothing…” he looks at kurusu then, pleading. “Don’t you, of all people, understand that?”_

_and he does. takuto can see that he does. yet despite that understanding, kurusu opens his mouth, and says something else entirely._

_“Even then, you keep going.”_

_it’s at that point, then, when takuto knows that this is truly over. he’d been holding out all this time, wishing and hoping and wanting, but he knows now that kurusu will never allow himself to accept this reality, no matter how beneficial it may be to him, because he has the strength to face his fears—a strength, takuto knows, he so clearly lacks._

_once that realization sinks in takuto can do nothing else but accept his defeat, every word spoken by the other thieves after that driving the point further._

_he’d been doomed to fail, right from the very start._ )

_Keep going_ , Kurusu had told him then.

Takuto had tried to take those words to heart. He’d picked up the pieces of his dreams and his life and struggled to find a new beginning for himself. He left the world of cognitive psience behind in order to start afresh, and even told Kurusu of his intentions to do so when he escorted the other to the train station. 

On that day, those words had been a promise to both Kurusu and himself. And he had tried—he’d tried so hard—yet in the end it all goes back to nothing. 

The harsh truth of Takuto’s own words ring in his mind. This is the reality that Kurusu and his friends had chosen; this harsh, cruel world that paid no heed to the injustices that occurred daily. A godless world, where things such as mercy and kindness usually remained as nothing but concepts in the human heart. A painful world, one that now held Takuto responsible for the things he had done long ago.

Some might call this karma, or maybe retribution, and Takuto wouldn’t fault them for that. In fact he would even agree with them. This, perhaps, had been his price to pay for his actions.

But that thought does nothing to ease the pain he feels, the virtol he has for what happened, the overwhelming guilt slowly devouring him from the inside. The emotions twist themselves up within him, tangled and messy, and rather than trying to unravel those feelings Takuto simply wants nothing to do with them. 

So he keeps on driving. He drives and drives and drives, putting whatever distance he can between him and everything else. The sound of the engine drowns out his thoughts, and the stretch of endless road before him fills his vision, blocking out the memories that threaten to replay themselves in his mind’s eye. For once Takuto doesn’t think of an ending, a destination, a goal; he simply keeps going, not allowing himself to stop, because when he stops is when all of this will end.

But for all his wishes, at the end of the day Takuto is nothing but a lowly, useless human, bound by the physical limitations of his body. His stomach eventually starts to growl for food, and when Takuto ignores it for too long he can feel his body begin to weaken from the lack of energy. Focusing becomes hard, too, and he wonders if this is how things will end for him—by somehow losing his focus bad enough that he ends up getting into an accident or something like that. At least then it would give him an out from everything.

Considering his track record, Takuto finds himself hardly surprised when life apparently decides to get in his way once more. The rented car begins to sputter, then starts to slow down despite the fact that Takuto still has his foot on the gas. He presses down harder in response, hoping that it could do something, but nothing happens. The car sputters again, managing a few more inches down the road before it comes to a complete standstill.

Takuto presses his foot down on the gas several more times, but to no avail. Like it or not, he has to accept the fact that the car isn’t going to move anymore until he can somehow get it fixed.

Even though part of him did expect this, it does nothing to ease the frustration that bubbles through him, threatening to spill out of Takuto all at once. But in his exhaustion all Takuto can manage is a few half-hearted kicks underneath the dash before he gives up and slumps over the steering wheel.

Takuto stares blankly at the spot where the windshield meets the frame of the car. The shadows of the labels stuck upon the windshield stretch out across the dashboard, quickly dissolving into darkness as the evening wanes itself into the night. It’s dark, and the car is down, and Takuto is… he’s just so tired. Tired of trying, tired of living, tired of everything. And it turns out he can’t even go through with wanting to end it all because life _still_ gets in his way. 

( _Are you sure,_ the Akechi-like voice from before hisses back to him, disgust dripping from it's words. _There are so many easier ways to do it, yet you deliberately chose this. Stop lying to yourself._ )

He’s so tired.

Before Takuto even realizes it his vision turns blurry, and his throat clamps up without warning. His hands tremble against where they’re holding the wheel, which he takes a moment to realize is getting wet because of the tears that are suddenly running down his face.

Once he notices it, however, the proverbial floodgates open. Takuto hears himself let out a broken keen as he cries, wailing like he’s never done before. The sound of his pitiful sobbing echoes within the confines of the car, bouncing back to him and ringing in his ears, which in turn only makes him cry even more. 

_Why,_ he thinks to himself, his throat too tight to let the question spill out. Why did this have to happen? He’d been trying so hard, doing everything he could to move on, yet in the end it didn’t matter anyway. Rumi’s suicide felt like the wounds in his heart had been ripped open all over again, gouged out of his chest and left in the open for all to see, ugly and raw and broken.

What use is he, in a world that he once rejected, and now is rejected in turn? Does he even deserve to be here, after this? Rumi’s blood is on his hands now, along with everyone else he had treated in the past. How many more deaths were going to be on his hands? How many more lives had he unknowingly taken out of what he had once thought to be kindness?

He’s a murderer. A monster. A demon, wearing the skin of a man, killing the weak and vulnerable out of misguided compassion. Even having what once had been good intentions doesn’t change the reality of what he’s done, the sins he’s committed. 

Someone like him doesn’t deserve to live. There’s no more place for him in this world.

( _Then just stay here. Let your guilt suffocate you. Fitting, right?_ )

Yes, it is. It is a fitting end for someone like him.

Takuto feels his head throb in pain. His vision swims. Exhaustion envelopes him further, making his limbs as heavy as lead. His eyes slip shut, letting the darkness and silence swallow him up. 

_(“I won’t let it end like this.”_

_that’d been kurusu’s bold declaration, spoken through gritted teeth as he struggles to keep a hold of takuto’s hand. it's impossible to not hear how the teenager is exerting all his strength to make sure takuto doesn’t fall, despite the fact that it's all takuto wants to do._

_he could still do it, if he tried. all takuto has to do is to struggle a bit and use his own weight against him. if he struggles against kurusu hard enough the teenager’s grip will most likely slip, and takuto can fall to his end._

_he should do it. he_ wants _to do it, and yet…_

_above him, kurusu continues to struggle. trying to save him even though takuto doesn’t want to be saved, doesn’t deserve to be saved. yet here he is, still being held on despite it all, and by the one person who should have had more reason than most to reject him._

_takuto raises his head and looks at him—at kurusu, who no longer has his mask to hide away the emotions that show so clearly upon his face. his eyes shine bright even in the darkness, gleaming with earnest determination and zealous honesty that takuto finds himself jealous of._

_did he have eyes like that too, once upon a time?_

_“Your eyes are as bright and honest as ever,” he hears himself say. “You keep your head up, no matter what.” so unlike him, and his cowardly ways. he couldn’t deal with the life he had in reality, so he took the first chance he had to run away from it. he hadn’t been willing to admit it to himself all this time, but now he knows he can no longer run away from the truth._

_“I must have always been… afraid.” he turns his gaze sideways then, watching how his Palace—his world—crumbles into nothing around them, vanishing back into the ether of unfulfilled dreams._

_all dreams eventually come to an end._

_“Afraid you and I wouldn’t wish for the same reality.”_

_deep down, he’d always known. he knew that kurusu would have never accepted any of this, no matter how wonderful or perfect it is, because from the very beginning he had a strength that takuto never had, and never will._

_his hand slips from kurusu’s grasp, ever so slightly. kurusu responds by grunting and tightening his grip further, adamantly refusing to let go. in the distance, the beat of a helicopter makes itself known._

_a pair of lights swing over to where they are, so bright and strong that it devours everything in its brilliance, banishing away every last shadow._

_kurusu looks down to him and smiles. his grip remains unyielding._

_takuto stares back, watching kurusu as the light swallows them whole, bringing the both of them out of darkness._

_“So bright…”)_

In the distance, Takuto hears the sound of urgent knocking, followed by a muffled shout coming from a familiar voice.

“Dr. Maruki? Dr. Maruki!”

 _I’m not a doctor anymore,_ he wants to respond, but he feels far too tired to do anything at all. 

“This isn’t gonna work. We need to get the door open!”

Another voice, also familiar. Young-sounding, too, though for some reason he knows that it's not accurate. It’s not accurate because the voice is…

“Guess we have to do this the hard way. Stand back, Morgana.”

“Oh, uh—right!”

_**SMASH!** _

It takes a second for him to register that the sharp, ringing sound he’s hearing now is most likely from broken glass. Something like that should’ve been jarring, but Takuto is so tired that even something like that sounds so far away from him. 

The soft click of a lock, followed by the cool breeze of the night air. A pair of hands set themselves on his shoulders, shaking him gently, attempting to rouse his attention. 

“Dr. Maruki,” the first voice calls for him again—and this time Takuto responds, because there is no way he can forget the voice of the one who he now owes his life to.

He opens his eyes just enough for him to make out the face of one Kurusu Akira, his expression etched with worry, fear and concern. 

“Kurusu…” he mumbles out, but doesn’t manage to get any further than that. Exhaustion claims him again, and Takuto falls back into unconsciousness, blacking out before he can hear whatever response Kurusu might have given. 

After all, it's not like it matters anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...yeah, this was hard to write. 
> 
> As you may have noticed, I've added a few more chapters to the total count. The fic decided to expand itself a little again, which given how this whole story has went to I felt was pretty necessary, even if admittedly this post game fic has wildly spiraled itself to be way longer than I initially thought it was. But can't complain, I guess. XD
> 
> As always, appreciate any and all support for this fic. I'll admit its been a while since I've let myself go ham on this much angst, and understand its not everyone's cup of tea. So no hard feelings if this chapter in particular turns you off from the story.
> 
> Next chapter hopefully sometime next week, or maybe a bit longer than that. Either way, thanks in advance for your kind patience until then. :3


	6. may, insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:** Continued angst of the heavy variety, a certain cat failing to be conscientious of others.
> 
> On a side note, I requested a cool [picture](https://twitter.com/tasogareika/status/1285627045658136577) of Maruki from a friend of mine! Please do go take a look, and also give some love to the wonderful art. :)

On the list of careers that Takuto considered taking up after his research had been shut down, counseling had perhaps been an inevitable option. After all, it wasn’t hard to see the link between cognitive psience and psychology, and in turn counseling. It also fit well with Takuto’s dreams of helping people—through this, he would have more experience in understanding the myriad emotions, dreams and concerns of the people who would benefit most from the outcome of his research. 

Some might have called him foolish, then, to still focus his efforts around his research even though his work had been rejected. But Takuto, if anything, was determined; the memory of what happened to Rumi that day constantly replays in his mind. The way life returned to her face and in her eyes, how that brokenness inside of her had vanished, as if it had never existed. It still hurts, sometimes, knowing that he’d sacrificed their life together for this miracle to happen, but he’d rather have this compared to the alternative. At least now she has a second chance to live the life once so brutally taken away from her.

Even though she may no longer be a part of his life, she remains ever present in Takuto’s thoughts. In the past, she gave him her love and support. Now, she gives him hope. Hope and a reason to keep moving on despite all that has happened. His research might have been shut down for now, but he knows that it lives on; Rumi herself is proof of that. One day, he knows, he’ll have his chance to fully prove the validation of his work. Until then, all he can do is to keep going. Continue moving forward, and never stop helping people who need it. 

Perhaps it’d been inevitable, then, that his desire to help led him to Shujin Academy.

On that fateful day, he wouldn’t have imagined that his visit to the school would’ve led him to making an unexpected discovery. He’d gone there by request of the principal for a discussion about Yoshizawa under the capacity of her counselor. 

He’s briefly greeted by one of the teachers—Ushimaru, as he would come to know later—upon arrival, then dutifully led towards the principal’s office with little fanfare. School had just finished for the day, so the students were out of their classrooms and loitering around the corridors, if they weren’t making their way home or headed to their clubrooms. 

With the students being out and about, chatter and gossip fill up the corridors that Takuto traverses on his way to the principal’s office. Several students give him a passing, curious glance, but the majority of them seem far more occupied with talking to one another. 

Takuto wants to say that their reactions are unsurprising, but something about the way the students are acting nags at him. The way they’ve grouped together, the hushed whispers and the harried looks that some of them have… it's clear enough to Takuto that something must have had recently happened here.

Fortunately, it doesn’t take long for him to get his answer. Another group of students are seen huddled close to the stairs on the second floor when Takuto gets there, and they immediately break out into whispers the moment they lay eyes on him. That, of course, also means that Takuto is close enough to hear snatches of their conversation, despite their attempts to keep quiet.

“...you think he’s…?”

“Has to… after what happened…”

“...be surprised… since she jumped…”

 _Jumped?_ It’s impossible to not associate that word with the worst of connotations, especially given everything else he’s noticed thus far. Many of the students he’s seen so far are… well, they’re certainly not behaving like how a normal student body would do, that much he’s certain. Possibly the only reason why they’d be acting like this would be due to something that happened to one of their peers. And if he were indeed to assume the worst case scenario—

—a sudden thought occurs to him then, chilling him down to the bone. Those students had mentioned a ‘her’, after all. What if that ‘her’ is actually…

A lump forms in his throat as dread coils in his gut, heavy and leaden. God. If that was why he’d been requested here… if anything happened to Sumire…

He needed to know, now, before deciding on what to do next. “Ushimaru-san, did something happen to Yoshizawa-san?”

The question, apparently, seems to catch the older man by surprise. “What? No, of course not,” he responds, glancing back at Takuto with a scowl. “Don’t pay attention to the students. They’re just all riled up over the second year from earlier.”

As much as he wants to feel relief that nothing has happened to Sumire—she was a first year, after all—there are still a multitude of things in that response that set off alarm bells for him. But Takuto holds his tongue; he has to put his patient first, as much as he wants to address the concerns of the students around him. 

He does, however, let himself ask one question. “What happened to the second year?”

Ushimaru lets out a sigh. “She’s in the hospital now, getting treatment.” He turns back to face forward. “We’re almost at the principal’s office.”

It’s not hard to see the other man’s desire to end the conversation, so Takuto acquiesces. His mind, however, continues to wrangle with the many thoughts now running through him as he eyes the way the students continue to group together and speak amongst themselves in hushed tones, pointedly falling silent the moment he or Ushimaru get a bit too close for their liking.

It hurts, seeing all of this. Students were supposed to feel _safe_ coming here—but now they act as if they’re prisoners, and the teachers are the wardens who breathe down their necks. This is in no way a proper, conducive environment for students to learn. 

_Later,_ he tells himself, even as a plan of action begins to form in his mind. After all, he’s already meeting the principal, so he might as well use the chance he’s given after that he’s seen. There’s no way he would let any of this continue now that he’s aware of it, especially when he knows that he _can_ do something about it.

Soon, they arrive at the door to the principal’s office. Ushimaru knocks to announce their arrival, then opens the door and gestures for Takuto to go in, who does so without wasting another second. 

It’s not the first time that Takuto has seen the principal in the flesh, though it's not as if he is in any way close to him. Still, it's hard to not notice the stressed expression on his face, even if it soon smoothes out into a smile that does little to hide his weariness.

“Ah, doctor!” he greets, full of forced cheer. Behind him, Takuto hears the door close. “Please, sit down. We have much to discuss.”

Takuto bows his head ever so slightly, murmuring a quick ‘thank you’ before he settles down, and the two of them immediately launch into the discussion that Takuto had been called here for. As much as Takuto wishes it to be otherwise, it is rare for a student to be admitted into school while still undergoing counselling, and the fact that Yoshizawa had been accepted as an honor student prior to everything only made it harder. Takuto had come down here multiple times in the past for that reason, though this is the first time he’s actually here during the school year.

With the whispers he’d heard from the students on his way here Takuto can’t help but worry that their discussion would inevitably go into unsavory routes, but fortunately it doesn’t seem to be the case. The principal—Kobayakawa, he recalls the name now after seeing the nameplate set at the corner of his desk—happily informs him of Sumire settling well into Shujin. 

Hearing that is a relief for Takuto. Of course, it has only been a few days since the start of the school year, so it's still early to be certain about anything—but it is a promising start. Takuto can only hope that as the year progresses Sumire will be able to move on from her painful past and live out the life she’d wished for. 

The rest of their discussion progresses well enough. Kobayakawa seems willing enough to listen to his advice to reschedule Sumire’s exams so as to let her properly focus on her training for her competitions, and agrees to give her permission to leave class early, be it either for practise or his counseling sessions. 

“The fact that she’s still doing all of this even after the tragic passing of her sister is admirable,” Kobayakawa says with a nod. “I only hope that all of us at Shujin can do everything in our power to support her dream.”

( _“My… older sister and I made a promise. We’d both compete and win the biggest gymnastics awards in the world. But…”_

_“...I stole Kasumi’s dream away from her.”_

_“I can’t do it anymore. I can’t just go on like this…”_

_“Only Kasumi could’ve done it. No matter how long I try to compete… it’s not going to change anything…”_

_“...sometimes, I can’t help but think things would’ve been better if I were Kasumi Yoshizawa.”_

_“After all… just wishing to make her dream come true does nothing for her in reality.”_

_“Dr. Maruki, I… I want to become Kasumi.”_ )

A faint unease surfaces at the back of Takuto’s mind. He squashes it down before it can take root. He can’t afford to second guess himself. Sumire is still here, alive, and more importantly, _happy_. It doesn’t matter that she found that happiness by living as her sister in her mind. If that’s what it takes to keep her from crumbling apart, then of course he will do it. It’s the same as giving medical aid to a critically injured person. The only difference is that none of Sumire’s injuries are physical in nature. 

What he chose is not an easy path; this, Takuto knew from the very beginning. And now, more than ever, he can’t give up. Not when there is somebody who needs him.

The unease dissipates, replaced with quiet affirmation. _Yes,_ he thinks, what he’s doing has to be the right thing. Change always takes time—being impatient for results will not get him anywhere. He just has to keep on believing the path he’s walking down and wait for the day when his efforts come to fruition. 

“I appreciate the support the school is giving her,” he responds with a smile. “Please, do continue to keep on supporting her during her time here.”

The discussion slowly wraps up after that point, with Kobayakawa promising to email Sumire’s modified schedule and plans after their meeting concludes so as to keep him in the loop. 

Once everything has been settled Takuto sees his opportunity to finally bring up the idea that’d been bubbling in his mind since his brief chat with Ushimaru earlier. “Principal Kobayakawa, before I take my leave…”

Kobayakawa perks up at the mention of his name. “Yes? Is there still something bothering you, Dr. Maruki?”

“Yes.” Best to be honest about this, he figures. “But it's not about Yoshizawa-san. It’s about… the students here.”

The reaction to his words are instantaneous. Kobayakawa frowns ever so slightly, and his disposition abruptly becomes closed off and guarded, though he does make a shoddy attempt of hiding it—especially when the tone of his voice makes it clearly obvious how reluctant he is to touch on this new line of conversation. “What about the students here?”

That kind of reaction—the one where the party is obviously aware that something is wrong yet doesn’t try to do anything to fix is—drives Takuto to push on with what he wants to ask. These students clearly need somebody on their side, and though he might be an outsider to whatever’s happened, he isn’t going to turn the other way and pretend he didn’t see anything. 

“I overheard some of them discussing something that happened here earlier in the day while Ushimaru-san was escorting me to your office.” He only gives Kobayakawa a moment to digest his words before pressing on again; better to get to the point instead of beating around the bush. “For now my obligations are only for Yoshizawa-san, but I would like to extend my services to the rest of the student body here. I don’t know the details, but it's clear that whatever that’s happened has left a lot of them unsettled, and I feel that they might benefit from—” 

Kobayakawa raises his hand to cut Takuto off. “I appreciate your concern, doctor,” he says, “but I assure you, we have the situation under control. I ask that you focus your efforts upon Yoshizawa-san.”

It takes everything inside of Takuto to keep his face from twisting in frustration at being dismissed so lightly. Is Kobayakawa so desperate to save face even after a student in his own school—a _child_ —had tried to take their own life? The wrongness of it all makes him want to scream. 

He can’t leave things like this. Takuto speaks up again, trying one more time. “Principal Kobayakawa, I urge you to reconsider—”

Kobayakawa stops him again with another raised hand, this time combined with a wary look. “I understand your concern, doctor, but this matter does not concern you. The school will handle it with the best intention of the students in mind.”

 _The students, or the school’s?_ The urge to snap back is strong, but Takuto holds his tongue once more. He can feel his frustration over this blatant injustice bubbling; it's always times like these when he’s vividly reminded of the cruel nature of society and how it's so easily accepted by the public. A world so twisted that even after a student tried to take their own life they’d rather try to save their pride than to do what is right. 

This terrible reality, that had heartlessly ripped apart Rumi’s perfect life with no mercy; this cruel reality, that continues to torment Sumire with the death of her sister at every turn with no regard for the girl’s fragile mental state; this tortured world, that all of them are complicit in.

He is only one man, but Takuto is still determined to do whatever he can for the injustices that he can see. It is all he can do, but he won’t allow himself to falter.

So even though his frustrations are many, Takuto keeps his silence, forcing his expression into one of placid neutrality. “...you are the principal, so I can only trust your word,” he says. “But know that I am only a call away, should you find yourself in need of a counselor.”

The expression on Kobayakawa’s face turns pinched. “...I’ll keep the offer in mind,” he replies after a pause. “Thank you again, doctor.”

It’s clear enough from the tone of his voice that those last words are meant to be a dismissal. Takuto personally doesn’t want to linger around for too long himself now that his business is concluded here, so he bids his farewell to Kobayakawa with a bow and proceeds to take his leave from the office. 

Unsurprisingly, Ushimaru is no longer outside when Takuto steps back out, even though he’d been told that the man would be around to escort him both in and out. But since he’s already been in the school a couple of times at this point, Takuto more or less remembers the way to the gates from where he is, so it isn’t a big issue. He didn’t really even want to have an escort in the first place—Kobayakawa had insisted on it—so it all kind of works out anyway.

Being alone also means that Takuto is free to be left with the thoughts swirling about in his head as he slowly retraces his steps towards the main entrance. Compared to before, now the hallways have significantly less students around; not that it's much of a surprise, since his discussion with Kobayakawa had taken quite a while. Most students should be making their way home by this time.

A stray thought crosses his mind at that. _I wonder how many students will actually tell their parents about what happened._ It’s clear enough from Kobayakawa that the school would rather keep this quiet, and the attitude of the parents prove to be the same… 

Takuto exhales loudly through his nose. He knows better than to fool himself; it's more than likely that the parents would share the school’s feelings on keeping this incident silent, be it to save face, or to not rock the boat, because no matter how much a parent cares for their child, humans are, in the end, nothing more than terrible, selfish beings who try to sugarcoat their selfishness with hollow, pretty words like ‘equality’ or ‘peace’. He knows this, because he’s just as bad as them.

But it's because he knows of his own weakness does Takuto try to make a change where he can. No longer will he let himself remain complicit in his own selfishness. He wants to do whatever is possible within his power to get rid of that innate selfishness within people so that they can live their lives without having to stew in anger and regret and envy. Therapy is… a start, but there is a reason why such a profession has existed for so long without any visible changes to society. Yet here he is anyway, committing himself to it because it is the only thing he can do, for now. 

He stops himself before his thoughts get any darker. Spiraling down like this isn’t going to benefit anyone, least of all himself. He just has to keep his focus on the goal and continue to work towards it; even if right now he’s on a setback, eventually he’ll find a way around it. He has to.

A gaggle of students block his way when he gets to the front doors, all of them occupied with loitering around and chatting among themselves. Takuto tries to get around them, but to no avail; given the size of the group, he guesses it probably must be the members from one of the clubs that has ended for the day. 

Just as he decides on having to squeeze past them to make his way out, the students finally start heading towards the doors themselves. Takuto lets out a small sigh of relief, happy to give them a few minutes to make a headstart before making a move himself. 

The light of the setting sun hits Takuto’s face the moment he steps outside. He squints, then raises his hand briefly to block out the sun as he walks the short distance between the front doors and the gate, dropping it as soon as he gets into the shade provided by the looming buildings that stand opposite the school.

Doing something like that should’ve been nothing. But the moment right after his hand passes through his vision the once empty alleyway in front of him is now suddenly occupied by three Shujin students—two blondes and one black. 

It’s all so abrupt that Takuto can’t quite stop himself in his tracks despite wanting to do so. He only manages it after a few more steps, first coming to a stop before he turns around and backtracks right back towards the alleyway. He’s almost about to turn the corner before one of them speaks up, making him pause.

“...looks like we made it back—hey, are you okay?”

‘Made it back?’ It’s hard to not wonder about that particular choice of words. As far as he knows that alleyway leads to a dead end, so where could they have come from? 

A short sigh preludes the second voice—female this time, he notes. “Well, pretty much…” The voice trails off after that, but only for a brief moment; it's only moments after that it pipes up again. “No, wait, I lied—I’m still confused about all of this.”

The next thing that Takuto hears is… a cat? Or at least, he’s fairly certain that it's a cat. Meowing is certainly involved, at the very least. 

But before he has a chance to unpack _that_ mystery he hears them shuffle about and knows that it’s his cue to make himself scarce before they spot him upon coming out of the alleyway. He turns and walks off at a brisk pace, heading straight to the train station; though part of him wants to linger around, he also doesn’t want to risk attracting any unwanted attention, especially when he has no idea just what he’d witnessed and heard.

Still, the incident sticks in his mind, when he sees the news of Kamoshida Suguru confessing his terrible crimes a little over two weeks later, the pieces start to click together.

When Kobayakawa calls him a few days after that to offer him a tenure as a counselor, Takuto knows that this is where his chance has come.

The answer—his dream—is right there in his grasp.

He’s not going to let it slip away this time.

(Within the deepest parts of his psyche, Azathoth rumbles.)

* * *

_( **I am thou and… thou art I!**_

_the declaration resounds through every part of him, filling him up with a certainty that is both familiar and foreign at the same time. the world around him—his world—trembles with the force of Adam Kadmon’s might as they face their strongest, deadliest enemies._

_the phantom thieves. there is no doubt to the strength that they hold, of the dangers they represent in their perfect, blissful world. twice now they’ve beaten them down, but this time… this time, they will—_

_**This power is the source… and the destination.** _

_**I will be the light that guides mankind.** _

_confidence surges through him, unshakeable and immovable. he is unstoppable, unflappable, unbeatable. he is more than the sum of his parts, powered by the desires of a world that longs for unwavering bliss._

_he is a _god_ , and these puny thieves will not stop him, no matter how they try to resist._

_where once he might have felt hesitation in taking them out, now it is all wiped away by the urgency to do so. no matter what they might have once meant to him, they are now a threat to everything he has done to get here, and there are limits to even the mercy of a god._

_but in spite of that, no matter how many times he tries they continue to persist, as tenacious as cockroaches. why don’t they refuse to give in? why are they still fighting? they have to know what’s at stake here, the happiness they’ll lose if they win, the suffering that’ll all come rushing back—_

_**I cannot fail… I must not fail you all!** _

_he has to win, no matter what. a god should not fall so easily to mere thieves._

_another strike. the thieves falter some more, legs buckling and knees almost touching the floor. yet they continue to stand their ground and continue to fight. why are they so insistent? why do they keep on fighting, even though they’re fully aware of what they’ll have to sacrifice for their victory? it doesn’t make sense. this senseless strife between them doesn’t make any sense at all._

_**the time to end such strife is at hand!** _

_he summons up all of his power into his fist one last time, making it certain than it will be enough to take them down once he lands the blow—_

_**Let’s settle this… once and for all!** _

_—he doesn’t want to do it but he has to, he has to finish them, for the sake of his perfect, painless world—_

_he brings down the full might of his power, but to his shock, they do not crumble. their hearts—their personas—manifest together as one, and their wills burn so strong they hold him still, trapping him in place with the sheer strength of their hearts._

_one by one, each of them shout out words of encouragement to their leader, giving him their strength while continuing to hold back against the strength of a god. a truly reckless maneuver, given how much they are already struggling. If this is how they wish to go out, then he will grant them that desire—_

_the sound of striking metal at the side. he turns, and sees the glint of a grappling hook that’s lodged itself firmly in some debris. soon after that, the quick passing shadow that swings by his vision before going _up_ , as if launching himself into the heavens._

_but if the shadow is to be an angel of any sort, then it is the angel of death. he descends back down, clad almost entirely in black, the tails of his coat flapping behind him like a pair of wings as he lands upon his crown._

_with a flourish he draws out his gun and presses the tip of the barrel against his head. cool grey eyes meet his gaze as the thief stares down at him from a place even higher than a god’s._

_“Checkmate,” he says, and pulls the trigger._

_with nothing to protect him the bullet goes straight through his skull. it flies true, piercing through every obstacle in its path with no remorse until it arrives at its destination—_

_the metallic ring that resounds out the moment the bullet meets it's mark echoes throughout him like a death toll. the force of the strike causes him to jerk back, and then he’s suddenly slipping because Adam Kadmon has let go of him and he’s falling falling _falling_ —)_

Takuto jerks up with a shout, eyes flying wide open. The world around him is fuzzy and indistinct, but before he has a chance to focus a yelp gets his attention. Instinctively, Takuto follows the sound, and he shifts his gaze down to what he can only make out as an indistinct black blob with two spots of blue looking back at him from the floor. “Geez, don’t just jerk up so suddenly! You almost threw me off the bed!”

All Takuto can do is to stare back at the talking blob. “I…” he tries to start speaking, but only manages to get out the first word before a coughing fit takes over.

“Oh, crap, uh—” A series of soft _thumps_ occurs then as the blob (cat?) jumps about, as if trying to figure something out. “Man, and I already told him to leave the door open—HEY! AKIRA! HE’S AWAKE!”

The shouting, of course, does little to ease both the coughing and the confusion that Taukto is still dealing with. If anything it only makes it worse, because the shouting made him instinctively hunch, and that little act is enough to worsen his coughing fit.

It’s bad enough that he doesn’t hear the door opening or the footsteps that approach him; it's only when the fit finally dies down and he feels a hand rubbing at his back does Takuto finally realize that there’s someone else next to him. He tries to see who it is through watery vision, but the rim of a steaming cup of warm water blocks his view.

“Drink this first,” A familiar voice tells him. “You’ll feel better after that.”

With no reason to refuse, Takuto lets whoever is holding the cup press it to his lips and tip it forward ever so slightly—just enough to first let a trickle of water slide into his mouth and down his throat, slowly increasing the flow as Takuto drinks and swallows without difficulty. 

After what feels like an eternity, Takuto drinks enough for the cup to pull away from him. As he regains his breath a pair of hands presses something onto his palms, and it takes a moment for him to feel the familiar shape of his glasses. That would certainly explain why his vision has been so fuzzy all this time.

Still too breathless to voice out a proper ‘thank you’, Takuto settles with a quiet sound of acknowledgement as he puts on his glasses with unsteady hands. He blinks once they’re on, vision sharpening itself back to something recognizable, and soon enough Takuto finds himself staring at a pattern of dark blue pawprints that clearly belongs on a blanket. The print gets covered up with an actual paw a second after that, and as Takuto slowly raises his gaze the fuzzy black blob with blue spots is now in the distinct shape of a very familiar cat. 

Morgana blinks at him the moment their gazes meet, then frowns in a way he’s never seen any other cat do before. Then again, he knows that Morgana is no ordinary cat. 

“You look terrible.”

...he’s always been a direct one, from what Takuto remembers. 

He’d say something in response, but another voice cuts in before he can speak—this one much more familiar. “No need to rub it in, Morgana. Let him rest.”

Takuto raises his head all the way up then, unable to stop the confusion he knows is plainly on his face as he stares at the one person he never thought he would ever see again, even with all the evidence telling him otherwise. 

Kurusu Akira tilts his head and returns his confused expression with a small, patient smile as he sets down the cup onto the bedside table. “Didn’t think you’d miss me so much that you’d drive all the way to where I live.”

The words are light, but his tone says otherwise. The weight of them makes Takuto want to run away and hide if he wasn’t so weak right now.

(But then, he’s always been weak. So weak that he couldn’t even face reality until he’d been forced to by Kurusu as everything crumbled around him. His life, his work, his reason to live.)

Takuto brings his gaze back down, suddenly unable to look Kurusu in the eye. “I didn’t… didn’t pay attention to where I was driving.” A destination had been the last thing in his mind through the entire ride. If the car hadn’t failed him—if his body wasn’t so limited—then he could’ve…

A heavy silence settles in the moment his words taper away. Takuto keeps his eyes fixed on the patterned blanket that covers his lower half as he struggles to keep his breathing steady through the lump that’d formed in his throat. A multitude of emotions swirl within him, too many to individually name each one, but their combination settles into something heavy that sits at the pit of his stomach. 

Eventually, it is Morgana who breaks the silence. “Maruki, you know that none of us actually—”

The words are surprising enough that it has Takuto look up and over to Morgana, but the moment he does so Kurusu steps in and picks up Morgana with a practised motion, pointedly ignoring the cat’s indigent sputters about being ‘so rudely interrupted’. 

“We can talk about all of that tomorrow,” he says, softly but firmly. “We’ve had a long day, and I’m sure Dr. Maruki is in a similar position if he’s come all the way down from Tokyo.”

If there was a way for a cat to look even more unimpressed, Morgana has clearly managed it. “ _You_ were the one with the long day. I was stuck in here while you were out having fun with—”

Kurusu cuts him off with a bop on the nose. “Alright, that’s enough from you.” He looks over to Takuto. “Rest as long as you need, Dr. Maruki. If you need the bathroom, it’s the door right next to this room you’re in.”

Takuto can only nod in return, the lump in his throat now more prevalent than ever. Kurusu blinks once at the silent response, but makes no other reaction otherwise. He simply inclines his head, then turns and heads out of the room with Morgana cradled in his arms. 

The heavy atmosphere only gets worse when Kurusu leaves. Takuto finds himself at a loss on what to do, or say, or… anything at all. He doesn’t know why he’s even here—or where, for that matter, though considering everything it's easy enough to make several guesses; none of which he particularly likes.

Again, all Takuto can do is to curse at his own weakness—though by this point he’s done that to himself so many times that even he is tired of doing it all over again. He knows full well just how weak and useless and terrible he is, to the point where he couldn’t even have the strength to end it all like he wanted to.

( _But is that what you really want?_ the Akechi-esque voice sneers from the back of his mind, once more. _Or are you just trying to find another way to run again?_ )

Takuto has no answer to that question. 

( _Stop lying to yourself. You know your answer._ )

Takuto remains silent. He lies back down on the bed he’d woken up on and closes his eyes, trying to steadfastly ignore the guilt that gnaws incessantly within him. 

( _You can run from everything else, but you can’t run from me. You know what the answer is._ )

He turns to lay on his side and pulls the blanket over his head, attempting to stay underneath it despite how humid and musty the air quickly becomes. He only manages it for about a minute before he has to pull back out, coughing and wheezing for much needed oxygen. 

The twisted voice within him crows triumphantly at his failure. 

( _No matter how much you try, you can’t hide from me._ )

Takuto feels the familiar hot stings forming at the corners of his eyes. He grits his teeth and hurriedly rubs them away with the back of his hand. But all it does is to further intensify the sensation, and eventually Takuto is forced to give up. He drops his arms and stays lying on his side, silently wishing for the silence and darkness to swallow him whole.

But there is no reprieve. The voice continues to mock and taunt him, laughing at his successive chain of failures, only stopping when his body is literally too physically exhausted to continue any further. 

By the time Takuto does fall asleep, the first rays of the morning sun have already begun to peek through the windows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh... hi.
> 
> First and foremost, massive apologies to everyone who'd been waiting for an update, and in turn for this update to not be as conclusive as some of you were probably expecting. The long and short of the reason behind my absence is that Life Basically Happened, and it kind of led to me losing my job and falling into a really bad depressive slump because of losing said job which I'm now very slowly getting out of. As one might expect, my motivation/creativity etc. took a pretty big hit until the last few days, where I finally pulled myself back together to resume this.
> 
> I very much intend to finish this fic still, and you may have noticed that I have yet again added more to the count. This time I am... 97% confident that this is the final count, mostly because this chapter probably should be combined with the next, but I also just really don't want people to keep waiting any longer so I'm posting this first half as its own chapter haha. (Also, admittedly, I kinda need some self-gratification now to keep me going.)
> 
> As always, appreciate any and all support for this fic, and a special thank you to the people who have left a kind comment on this fic during these last few months. They have meant a lot to me, and knowing that people are still interested in this motivated me to continue. The plan is to hopefully wrap up this entire story by the end of September, with luck.


	7. may, noctis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** Depictions of depression, even more angst, suicidal ideation, badly articulated feelings.

The warmth of the afternoon sun greets Takuto when he finally wakes up, though it gives him little comfort. As soon as he opens his eyes everything comes rushing back to him, and he’s left staring blankly at the ceiling above him. 

The voice in his head remains quiet, though he can feel it ready to come forth at a moment’s notice, eager to strike the moment it sees an opening, a new wound to inflict. He knows it's only a matter of time before that happens, given his track record. In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if it happened in the next five minutes. 

With things as they are, it’s hard to muster any motivation whatsoever to do something that’s as simple as moving. Part of Takuto is tempted to shut his eyes and go back to sleep, but with how bright it is and the sounds starting to come out from his stomach, he knows that he doesn’t really have much of a choice in the matter. Not to mention the fact that he’d rather not abuse the already generous hospitality that Kurusu is giving to him, even though he doesn’t deserve it in the slightest.

( _Of course you don’t. Why would you? You’ve never given him any. All you ever did was to use him._ )

Takuto closes his eyes and lets out a shuddering breath. Despite having just awoken, he already feels tired all over again. It would be so easy to just close his eyes and let himself sink back into the silence of sleep…

A sudden knock on the door jerks Takuto back into reality, the sound of it far too loud compared to the quiet that’d just been here moments prior. It sets his heart pounding as he tenses up, chest heaving in quick, sharp breaths that only serve to further wind him up. 

_Panic attack,_ some disjointed part of him manages to voice out to him, but that realization does nothing for Takuto. If anything, it only makes him more acutely aware of his body’s betrayal; the way every part of him is wound up with tension, how the sound of his breathing echoes in his ears, drowning out every other voice in his head except for the one that continues to sneer and mock at his pitiful state. 

( _You dared to think of yourself as a god, a savior of all? Look at you now—despicable, worthless trash._ )

The words cut as deep as the sharpest blade. Takuto trembles as he feels the familiar lump wedged in his throat once more. God, how arrogant he’d been. How twisted and terrible and so very blind. If he truly did care, if he wasn’t so selfish, then maybe Rumi would’ve…

A hand on his shoulder startles Takuto out from his spiraling thoughts. He jerks, trying to pull away, but the grip turns tight, fingertips digging in almost hard enough to bruise. 

“Dr. Maruki,” a distant yet recognizable voice comes from his side. “Tell me five things that you can see.”

The unexpected request throws him off guard, even though a part of him realizes what this is about. But he feels shaken enough that this understanding changes nothing for him at the moment. 

With his thoughts too scattered apart, all Takuto can do is to follow the request. “I…” he starts, the words leaden and heavy on his tongue. His throat hurts, as if something had been squeezing around his neck for the longest time without him noticing. “I… c-cupboard.”

The hand on his shoulder remains still. “Four more things.”

He shifts his gaze ever so slightly. “D-Door.”

A hum. “Three more. You can do it.”

Pause. Another shift. “B… boxes?”

“I haven’t been very good with unpacking.” A quiet laugh. “Two more. Then we can move on.”

Takuto turns his gaze just a bit more, eyes trying to catch onto something that he can name so that he doesn’t have to do this anymore. “Sh-Shelf. And… chair.”

“That’s five.” The hand on his shoulder tightens briefly before letting go. “Should we continue, or do you feel well enough to eat?”

Takuto thinks about his response. He doesn’t really know what to feel about being cared for like this, especially when he doesn’t deserve it. Kurusu’s kindness only serves to twist the knife further, every gentle word and touch festering in his veins like poison. Is this what people mean with the phrase ‘kill with kindness’?

He opens his mouth, wanting to say no, to deny this selflessness that hurts more than helps, but before he can say anything his stomach growls so loudly that there’s no way for Kurusu to _not_ hear it. 

Kurusu doesn’t say anything, but even without looking at him Takuto can feel the weight of his stare. He doesn’t have any appetite at all, but at this point there’s really nothing that he can say to excuse himself. He knows far too well that starving himself isn’t going to get him anywhere.

“...you should at least have a shower.” Kurusu finally breaks the silence with that statement, though the sound of his footsteps still feel impossibly loud as he moves back towards the door. “I’ll make some instant noodles for you to have once you’re done.”

Kurusu leaves the room entirely after that—or at least, that’s what Takuto assumes, because he hasn’t dared to bring his gaze anywhere close to Kurusu this entire time so all he knows is his footsteps, which by now are too far away for him to be in here. 

He doesn’t need the voice to tell him what he’s doing, at this point. 

Takuto feels his hands shake as he clenches his fist and presses his lips together, eyes squeezing shut. 

He really hasn’t moved on at all from that day—not even one bit.

* * *

Eventually, Takuto does manage to get himself out of the bed, although the effort that it takes for him to do so is bad enough that it makes him just want to go back.

But as tempting as it is to do so, it would also be in incredibly bad taste, at least for him. Kurusu might not have said anything at all but simple logic makes it clear enough to him where he is, and exactly whose bed he’d been lying on. Even if neither of them were no longer at Shujin, their past connection is enough for him to feel how unprofessional all of this is. Not that he’d been the most professional while he’d been a councilor anyway, considering…

He can already feel the sneer starting to bubble up from the darkness in his mind at those thoughts. Takuto bites down a sigh and forces himself to finish up his washing in the bathroom, putting back on the same clothes instead of the neatly folded ones that greeted him when he stepped into the room. He’s already inconvenienced Kurusu enough as it is. 

The uncertainty within him spikes up again as soon as he steps out of the bathroom when he’s done, feeling more than a little lost on what to do from here. For better or for worse, he isn’t left hanging for long; not long after he’s out Kurusu’s voice floats down from the hallway, calling him over.

Not knowing what else to do, all Takuto can do is to acequetise. He cautiously walks down the length of the hallway, feeling how his legs shake as they struggle to keep him upright with every step. It occurs to Takuto in that moment that despite his lack of appetite, he hasn’t eaten for more than twenty four hours by this point. Not so surprising, then, that his body is this weak.

( _Weak enough to get crushed. That’s what you really want, isn’t it? To meet your end properly against him._ )

Takuto tries not to dwell on those words as he gets to the end of the hallway, where the path opens up to the rest of the house, starting with the living room. 

Morgana, who’d been curled up on the middle of the sofa, uncurls himself the moment he sees Takuto. He jumps down to the floor and trots over to him, circling around his feet and staring at him with too-blue eyes.

“You look like hell.”

In the distance, Kurusu sighs. “You don’t need to keep rubbing it in, Morgana.”

Takuto shifts his gaze then, finally letting himself set eyes on the teenager in question. Kurusu Akira stands at the threshold that segregates the living room from the semi-open kitchen that lies beyond the living room, hands dripping wet. Kurusu hastily wipes them dry against his lounge pants—apparently not caring for the marks that he leaves behind—and then points towards the dining table which sits between the two areas.

“I made them not long ago, so they shouldn’t be too hot to handle,” he says, and it takes a moment for Takuto to realize that he’s referring to the bowl of noodles that’d been set at the seat closest from where he is. It’s hard to not suspect that placement as a deliberate choice.

Well, it's not as if bringing that up is going to do anything. Takuto remains silent and focuses on making the rest of the way to the dining table. Despite the short distance the effort it takes feels even more monumental than before, and Takuto feels breathless and lightheaded by the time he gets to the table. It’s probably a miracle that he even manages to settle himself onto the chair instead of collapsing to the floor.

Kurusu sits himself down on a chair to the side. Morgana jumps onto the table and settles on his haunches on the center of the table. 

The teenager lets out a quiet, amused sound. “Personal space, Morgana.”

Morgana huffs at the comment, obviously not sharing the other’s amusement, but backs off as asked. Takuto can’t deny the momentary ease that passes through him once he doesn’t feel the cat’s presence as keenly as before.

He rests his gaze upon the bowl of noodles that Kurusu had made for him, watching for several moments at faint wisps of steam rising from the surface as the distinct scent of seasoning wafts over. His stomach growls in response to the promise of food.

Kurusu cracks a smile at the corner of his eye. “Don’t need to stand on ceremony with me, Dr. Maruki. I have nobody to tell.”

That wasn’t exactly what Takuto had been concerned about, but he appreciates the gesture for what it is. He reaches for the provided chopsticks, making sure to voice out the usual thanks (albeit in an almost inaudible tone) before allowing himself to start. 

Considering how hard it’d been for him to even get here Takuto wouldn’t be surprised if his hands and arms decided to be as uncooperative as possible too, but fortunately, that doesn’t seem to be the case. Soon enough Takuto manages to get a decent amount of noodles piled on the spoon, which he then brings to his mouth and eats like any other time.

It’s not as if there’s anything special about this at all—it’s nothing more than a standard bowl of instant noodles—yet when the flavors burst on his tongue Takuto feels a sudden surge of emotion swelling up within him, threatening to spill over. God, why is he like this? There’s absolutely nothing right now that could have triggered such a reaction, yet somehow…

Takuto doesn’t remember when was the last time he felt this unstable, so uncertain of everything around him. Probably not since that fateful night with Rumi, and even then that didn’t last long. Right now, Takuto can’t help but feel as if these current emotions are going to linger for the rest of his life.

His throat clams up, tightening to the point where it feels impossible to swallow down his mouthful of noodles without encountering some kind of difficulty. His arms ache from holding up the spoon and chopsticks, so Takuto puts them back down, which in turn prompts a blink from Kurusu. 

“...not a fan of chicken?” he says, after several moments of silence.

Takuto shakes his head in response, since he’s unable to speak. For better or for worse, that might’ve been a good thing; Takuto isn’t sure at all if he can even explain himself if his mouth wasn’t currently occupied. 

Kurusu blinks again at the gesture, brows furrowing, but thankfully doesn’t try to push the conversation further. He leans back against his chair and nods to the bowl. “Well, take your time then. And don’t worry if you can’t eat it all.”

Too kind. Far, far too kind. He doesn’t deserve any of this, not after everything that he’s done.

( _You don’t deserve his pity. You don’t deserve his forgiveness. You never will._ )

* * *

Takuto manages to get to around half of the bowl before finally throwing in the towel. Morgana promptly expressed his disbelief that ‘somehow would turn down your cooking, Akira!’, but all Kurusu did was to snort quietly and assure Takuto that he wasn’t actually insulted. 

There’s no reason to distrust Kurusu’s words, but the guilt sticks to him nonetheless, and it only worsens when he steps back into Kurusu’s own room and lies down on his bed. Earlier, he could have excused himself for being here since he’d been unconscious and so had no idea that he’d been brought here in the first place, but now that he’s awake and aware those reasons don’t hold up anymore. It should’ve been easy to excuse himself and leave, and yet… Takuto can’t bring himself to actually do it. Everytime he tries to open his mouth to speak, his throat clamps up all over again, forcing his words back down without a chance to come out.

With no energy or motivation to do anything at all, Takuto finds himself staring at the ceiling above him, passively watching how the light shining through the window and curtains move across it's expanse as the day passes by. 

Staying like this—hell, feeling like this—reminds Takuto all too vividly of all the days he’d be next to Rumi at the hospital, fruitlessly hoping for her to get better. Of the time after his dreams were shattered for good, leaving him with nothing else but a gaping emptiness inside that even until now remains just as hollow. 

But none of those feelings do anything to help. No matter how terrible Takuto feels the time continues to pass, and the world keeps on moving, uncaring for anything or anyone who lives on it. Takuto knows that he could lie here and rot and nothing would change. Everything would simply remain the same.

Part of him wants to scream and shout and cry how unfair all of this is, but at the same time he knows he deserves it. This is his punishment for trying to play God. The only thing he can do is to swallow everything down and bear the full weight of his sins.

 _And then?_ comes the question from somewhere deep within him. _What will you do, then, after bearing all of your sins? What happens after?_

The only answer that Takuto comes to is silence.

He turns to his side and closes his eyes, welcoming the darkness that comes from his closed eyelids and the peace that follows as he lapses back into unconsciousness once more.

_(“This is…”_

_he trails off as he glances in awe at his surroundings. pristine halls and spacious seats, both of which buzz with the activity of countless people. above him, doves flock and coo; many of them settle contentedly into any nook and cranny made available to them as others strut about the grounds, happy to feast upon the food and crumbs that are generously tossed to the ground by the ones waiting for their turn at the registration counter._

_it’d been everything he’d dream of back then, plus so much more. a wonderful, peaceful place where people would come and allow themselves the chance to be free from their pain and worries. the fact that there are already so many gathered in this entrance area brings him far more joy than he’d ever felt in the years since the incident._

_seeing such a crowd that’s already eager and clamoring for help has him aching to head right over to where they are and start helping wherever he can, but the presence at the back of his mind tells him otherwise._

_**Not yet.** _

_he stops midway in taking his first step. he shifts back, then turns to look at azathoth. his persona. the manifestation of his heart’s desire and strength. is this what kurusu and the rest of his friends had? this amazing, wonderful power? if so, then it's not so much of a surprise now on why they chose to become the phantom thieves. he would have done the exact same thing, if he were in any of their shoes._

_more than ever, he’s thankful for having had the chance to meet kurusu. if it wasn’t for him, takuto doubts he would be here right now. he can only hope that he is able to repay the favor, somehow._

_—which is why he is so eager to start on his work, but azathoth apparently has something else in mind. takuto, of course, can only trust him, for to distrust him is to distrust himself, and there is no reason to do something that silly. if azathoth is truly a part of him, then he has a reason to direct him as such._

_he watches azathoth float past him, heading down a path away from the waiting crowds. takuto only hesitates for a moment before he follows; he can come back here later, once azathoth is done with whatever it is that requires his attention._

_they head deeper into the building, walking down winding corridors lined with posters proclaiming for health and happiness that takuto finds himself nodding at. more than anything else, that is what he wishes for—that he can service a way to everyone’s happiness, to let them be their best selves all the time without terrible things like pain and trauma to bring them down._

_eventually, the corridors lead them to a room lined with consoles while countless monitors hang from the walls, all of them currently inactive. takuto glances at them all with interest before azathoth calls for him once again._

_he turns to his persona and answers the call. “What is it?”_

_azathoth floats over to the only open spot between two of the consoles. **Here, my little dream.**_

_takuto walks over to where his persona is, interest piqued. between the two consoles is another corridor, though in lieu of a standard floor is instead a pedestal of sorts. while it seems solid enough to step on—which, considering that he can see an intersecting path beyond, further solidifies his guess—it still leaves the question as to why this part of the floor is so different from everything else he’d seen._

_he’s about to ask azathoth about it, but the persona has moved itself to hover over that particular bit of floor. **This way.**_

_he supposes he’ll get his answer soon enough. takuto inclines his head briefly and then follows, stepping onto the strange flooring where azathoth waits. surprisingly, it feels more solid than he’d expected._

_but then it suddenly jerks, and he yelps, stumbling for a bit before managing to regain his balance. his heart hammers loudly in his chest as the momentary panic of falling over overcomes him in those few seconds, but as he catches his breath (and as the floor—elevator—descends) it slowly calms back down._

_by the time it reaches the bottom the awe that he feels has taken over everything else as he stares with wide eyed wonder at where azathoth has brought him. at first glance it seems to be nothing but a circular, hollow room that’s lined with what seems to be countless empty cells all around, but instead of silence takuto hears what he can only describe as numerous, clamoring whispers that all seem to be calling his name._

_takuto follows the sound of those whispers, their call loud enough to even drown out the sound of his footsteps that echo across the room. they continue to rise the closer he gets to the source, eventually reaching a crescendo that should’ve by all means been incredibly deafening but somehow takuto finds himself taking it all in without even so much as a blink. that only happens when he gets to the very center of the room where a seemingly bottomless pit greets him, the only given warning in the form of a dark red indentation that lines around the rim before the drop. he peers over the edge, briefly wondering what this spot was once used for. but before he can start on his train of thought azathoth’s voice booms in his mind, even louder than the voices. **Hear them, little dream. Hear how they call for you, for your help, your guidance.** _

_the persona glides past him then, his golden cruciform shell gleaming brightly even within the dull, red light that fills this room. takuto watches azathoth as he smoothly passes the edge, floating all the way to the center of the hole before coming to a stop._

_takuto warily eyes the bottomless pit that his persona is hovering over; even though he knows that azathoth is going to be fine it's still hard not to be concerned. the realm of the human heart is, as far as he knows, an unstable place. there’s no telling what could happen if he isn’t careful._

_that’s when he feels a touch in his mind that he’s felt many times prior in the past—a touch that always brings him assurance whenever he feels himself wavering—followed by azathoth’s firm, confident words. **There is no need to worry. Everything has been all according to plan.**_

_“Plan?” he echoes, questioning. though it isn’t hard to make out that they were here for a reason, this is the first time he’s heard of anything like that. just why did azathoth bring him all the way down here?_

_azathoth turns around then, the fire in it's hollow eye sockets burning stronger than ever as their light bores into takuto’s gaze. **This, my dream, is the place you so desperately sought for. The heart of the sea of the collective unconscious.**_

_it takes a second for takuto to remember where he’d initially heard that from. on that day, in the cafe as he expressed his frustrations over a steaming cup of coffee as the scent of numerous spices floated from the steaming pot in the kitchen. and in front of him, ever patient and thoughtful, a teenager who moved and acted with far more grace and maturity than takuto could’ve ever had, who’d simply smiled at him and wished him luck when gave takuto the answer that’d eluded him them, not knowing that it would one day lead them to opposing sides._

_he wonders then, briefly, if kurusu would’ve been willing to stand by his side then, to help him bring about this plan to fruition, but stops and shakes his head before that thought goes any further. even if kurusu were willing, it wouldn’t be right to drag him into this. he’s done more than enough as one of the phantom thieves._

_(he should’ve realized it then, how even back then he was already deliberately blinding himself to the truth.)_

_now, it’s time for him to do what he must._

_azathoth rumbles._

_**Draw forth your blasphemous will, and call out my name. Let us bring about the future that mankind truly desires.** _

_takuto closes his eyes and feels the power that’d been gifted upon him flow through his body; every nerve and synapse within him beginning to sing as he summons forth the power that would allow him to become the shining light that the people need._

_the moment he feels everything rise to a crescendo he snaps his eyes open, and they blaze with ethereal fire as he stretches out his hand and roars out the name of his persona._

_**“Azathoth! Guide me to mankind’s promised future!”** _

_the cruciform shell that is azathoth pulses at the call, and the whole room trembles with their power—a power that others would have feared. but fear is the last thing that takuto feels as he watches the tendrils that rise forth from the pit his persona hovers over, like the trunk of a giant tree that shoots up into the sky. no, what overcomes him is nothing but awe and amazement as he sees how azathoth’s tendrils reach out to touch upon the heart of the collective unconscious, cradling it like a mother would to her child as they spread across the rest of mementos. the more they expand the more takuto understands, too, and when it's done he finds himself fully understanding what it is that he must do. what he has to do, for the betterment of mankind._

_azathoth reappears before his eyes, having phased through the tendrils that’d surrounded him prior. the gleam of his shell shines brighter than ever, and takuto can almost feel it warming his own soul._

_**We are ready,** he says, and takuto nods in agreement._

_with azathoth at his side, he’ll be able to save everyone from this cruel, godless world.)_

When Takuto opens his eyes, the only things that greet him is darkness and silence.

For a moment, it feels as if he’d been brought back in time to that night—the night where his dreams and his world crumbled into dust all around him, like snowflakes melting away in the summer heat. There is nothing left inside of him, a hollow emptiness that continuously sucks away any bit of hope or happiness that he’d once felt. 

It’s a suffocating, crushing sensation, especially after what he’d just dreamed. Like the most cruel manipulator, his mind is making him recall the moments where he’d felt so certain and accomplished, so hopeful for a future that he’d once seen as wonderful and bright but now knows it to be otherwise. Azathoth—rather, Adam Kadmon—had used him, just like how he’d used the Phantom Thieves—and even his counselling, to an extent. 

He supposes then, that what happened had simply been a case of karmic justice. To have used, and be used in turn. It is only fitting.

Takuto stays where he is, too tired to even move a muscle, his mind as blank as the ceiling above him which he stares at. The darkness surrounds him, thick and heavy, and the temptation to let himself drown in it is all too close.

( _“It’s what you deserve, and you know it.”_ )

He does. He does know it. He knows it all too well. No matter what he tries, he’s fated to end back here. It is his punishment for all the sins that he has done.

He closes his eyes and lets out a shaky breath. Somebody like him… should simply rot in the shadows, so that nobody will ever be able to find him. 

In the darkness where there is nothing to see it feels easy enough for him to begin sinking down, going lower and lower as everything fades away into a void that calls for his name. He responds to that call, letting himself go in, knowing that once he’s in he can finally find relief from everything that tortures him so—

“Dr. Maruki.”

A voice, from far away, calling out his name. 

He ignores it. The title doesn’t suit him any more. Has never suited him, even from the very beginning. 

“Dr. Maruki!”

 _Stop,_ he wants to say in return. _Stop calling me that._ His research had only led him to destruction, while his work brought only pain to so many innocent lives. He’d foolishly believed he had the power to do anything, when the reality is that he accomplished nothing. All he’d ever been was a foolish, useless and utterly powerless human.

_Just let me go. Let me… disappear._

The darkness rushes in. Cold, powerful, unrelenting. Eager to swallow up anything that sinks into it's deceptively tender caress.

Takuto lets himself drift, allows the darkness to come in and claim him as it wishes. His senses dissolve into an empty void, where the only thing that exists is nothing. There is no more noise, no more feeling, no more pain. It is only here, in this infinite emptiness, that he is finally free. If there is nothing at all, then there is nothing that can hurt him ever again.

Nothing…

…

…

…

“Dr. Maruki, wake up!”

A sudden warmth bursts out from his chest at the call; he feels it bloom, the warmth unfurling out like petals underneath the sun, and then it spreads, gliding across the darkness like water as it envelops him. Takuto thinks he can feel the warmth right up against him, as if shaping him out from the darkness that he had sunk into. With every inch that the warmth spreads the cold that he feels recedes a little more, and eventually all of it is entirely gone.

He knows that this warmth should feel comforting, but for some reason he doesn’t feel that way at all. Instead it burns in a way that can only be described as _gradual_ , like acid slowly eating away at his flesh; a slow and steady torture designed to do nothing else except to prolong his suffering. 

Others would call this cruel, but for Takuto, he knows that this is exactly what he deserves. If he cannot fade away in darkness, then let the light burn him away from the world instead.

“Dr. Maruki, please…”

A weight presses down against his shoulders then, and it's touch is a cooling balm to the heat that now has him. It grips him tight and then starts to pull him up, rousing him with an abrupt sense of vertigo strong enough to make Takuto gasp and open his eyes. 

The world rights itself as soon as he does that. There is no more icy darkness, no more scorching light. There is only him, sweaty and shaking on Kurusu’s bed, in Kurusu’s room, with the teenager in question hoving right in front of him as he studies Takuto with a concerned expression. 

“You were having a nightmare,” he says, in lieu of asking the usual questions like _’are you okay’_ or… something that isn’t what he’s saying right now. 

Takuto can only stare back in return, his mind still trying to digest everything that has just happened. Distantly, he registers the fact that Kurusu has turned on the lights of his room, and the pressure on his shoulders come from the teeanger having placed his hands there for some reason. 

If Kurusu notices his realization, he doesn’t say anything about it. He simply studies Takuto’s face for a moment more before pulling away, straightening up to stand from where he’d been kneeling next to the bed, then jerks his head in the direction of the door. “I’ve made dinner, so feel free to come out whenever you’re ready.”

Takuto can only blink at the words, his mind still too frazzled to conjure up a response. Not that he thinks he could even if he didn’t feel like this; Kurusu’s laid back attitude would’ve caught him off guard either way. He knows the teenager enough that his actions don’t stem from him callously disregarding Takuto’s feelings, though understanding that doesn’t give him any more insight to his actions. 

Apparently taking his silence as affirmation, Kurusu gives him a nod before he turns and heads out of the room, though he leaves the door open just enough for a sliver of light from the corridor to come through, giving just enough light for Takuto to see as he sits quiet and alone in the darkness of the room.

* * *

Eventually, it is the incessant growling of his stomach that makes Takuto get out of bed.

Just like before the effort it takes has him wanting to head right back the moment his feet touch the ground, but Takuto forces himself to persist. As tempting as it is to do it, the shame of causing even more trouble for Kurusu is far greater than his discomfort. Here he is, a grown man, rendered entirely helpless due to his own mind and forced to depend on a teenager who didn’t ask to be a caretaker yet did it without so much as a complaint.

...he truly is a terrible person.

Guilt swells up within him, building up at the back of his throat like bile. The aroma coming from the plate of food set before him does little to assuage the urge to vomit, even with his stomach growling so loudly that it's impossible for the other two people (or rather, one person and one cat) to have _not_ heard it.

Kurusu briefly glances up from his own plate, giving a cursory glance at Takuto’s still untouched meal, but doesn’t say anything and simply resumes eating. Morgana, on the other hand, is not as willing to let it slide. 

“Hey, it's gonna get cold if you don’t eat it soon.”

Takuto hears the words and understands them, but even then he still can’t bring himself to move despite having managed to drag himself all the way to the dining table from Kurusu’s room. He knows he should eat—and he’s even done it before, just earlier today—yet for some reason now he simply just… can’t do it. His arms feel as heavy as lead, and even the thought of raising them up feels like an insurmountable task. The only thing he can bring himself to do is to keep on staring at his plate of food as it slowly turns cold.

Morgana makes a dissatisfied sound. “Maruki, you need to stop—” He cuts himself off with a yelp before he can finish, and a quiet ‘thump’ sounds out before he abruptly hisses out Kurusu’s name. 

“ _Akira_ —”

“It’s fine, Morgana. Don’t worry.”

Again, the words go in and out of Takuto. He simply continues to stare at his plate, lacking the energy to speak or move or… well, do anything in general. What was the point of doing anything at all now, when it wouldn’t get him anywhere? He’s lost everything; not even Rumi had been spared from his follies. 

Morgana doesn’t speak up again after that, letting the silence remain throughout the rest of the meal. The only time it breaks is when Kurusu’s spoon clinks against the bottom of his plate as the teenager finishes his food. It’s barely a reprieve from the atmosphere, however—if anything, Takuto only feels _worse_ knowing that he’s wasting even more of Kurusu’s efforts in trying to help him. He truly doesn’t deserve any of this.

The scrape of Kurusu’s chair against the floor tells him when the teenager is done with his food. The sound is followed by a soft _clink_ as he presumably picks up Morgana’s own dish, followed by footsteps as he then heads off to the kitchen to do the dishes. Takuto’s food remains on the table, still completely untouched, and as the seconds tick by the guilt gets worse. Why is he still even here, so blatantly taking advantage of Kurusu's kindness even after everything he did? He shouldn’t even be here in the first place. He needs to leave, to go far away, to disappear so that Kurusu doesn’t ever have to deal with him again—

A warm weight suddenly makes itself present on his lap, and the brush of fur against his arms is the only warning he has before Morgana’s head pops out in the space between him and the dining table. Takuto jerks a little, surprised by Morgana’s abrupt closeness, his attention now shifted onto the cat who’s decided to sit on his lap. He looks at Morgana, who stares back at him in turn with too blue eyes. His tail idly swishes across his thighs, but beyond that the cat doesn’t say or do anything else to explain his actions. 

“Morgana.”

Kurusu’s voice finally breaks the silence after what seems like a decent length of time. Takuto raises his head and turns in the direction of where he’d heard it from; Kurusu stands at the other end of the dining table with his arms crossed, his face set in an expression of faint exasperation as he looks at Morgana. 

Morgana huffs, but doesn’t say anything else. He jumps off Takuto’s lap, landing gracefully on all fours onto the floor, then turns to glance at Takuto one more time before looking back at Kurusu. 

“Good luck,” is all that the cat says before scampering off into the corridor and vanishing from Takuto’s sight. 

Silence once again settles in the moment Morgana disappears, and it's presence is as thick and stifling as always. Takuto can only manage to look at Kurusu for a second before the shame and guilt makes him lower his gaze back down to his now cold plate of food. 

( _”It’s gone. Wasted and rotten, just like you.”_ )

Just like him.

The sound of Kurusu’s footsteps pick up once more, though they fade away quickly and Takuto realizes it's because the teenager is walking away. Which, of course, makes perfect sense; it had always been a matter of time before Kurusu figures out that he isn’t worth the effort. Why would he? All he’s done is to hurt people and cause them even more pain than what they were already suffering through. Yoshizawa almost died because of his arrogance, while Rumi _did_ die due to his ignorance. And there were still numerous other people out there who he’d used his power on so brazenly back then. How many of them ended their lives the same way as Rumi did, because of what he’d done? 

Before he can even start to try and grapple the enormity of that realization something new slides into his vision, replacing the untouched plate that had been mysteriously shifted away. The words swim in his vision at first, too many of them to handle at once with his exhausted mind, but then familiar phrases start to click in his mind and the mystery quickly unravels, turning into a dull horror as he realizes exactly what it is that he’s staring at, even with his vision going blurry at the edges.

> ` **TRAGEDY STRIKES FAMILY OF THREE**  
>  _Attempted robbery turns to murder, leaving 2 dead_ `
> 
> `■■■■■, ■■■■■■■■—What was supposed to be a happy gathering for the Hanada family turned into tragedy three nights ago when their house was targeted by an armed robber…`
> 
> `...initial investigations have confirmed that the murders were not planned…`
> 
> `...the father was declared dead at the scene, while the mother did not survive the trip to the hospital…`
> 
> `...sole survivor, Hanada Rumi, aged ■■, is still under observation, though police have mentioned that her catatonic state has made it hard to get testimony from her…`
> 
> `...unknown if she will ever recover from the loss of both her parents in such a horrific tragedy...`

  
The words from the article burn into his mind even though he’s had it long memorized—he’d used to read it everyday like it’d been his personal bible, the clipping folded and unfolded from the file he’d kept it in so many times that the creases from the folds have worn down and threaten to tear at any moment. It’d only been then when he’d made himself stop in fear of destroying something so important to him, and he kept it in it's file after that, tucked away at the bottom of the lowest shelf in his wardrobe, and the key that kept it locked had never left his side from that moment on.

So the fact that he’s seeing this right before him now brings a sudden wave of fear that claws at his insides with sharp, icy talons, cold enough that it makes him tense up and shiver, his throat squeezing itself tight as he struggles to keep his breaths steady. Even though part of him knows that there is no way for Kurusu to know about this his mind still whirls with questions like _why_ and _how_ and _what else, is he going to, no—_

He can feel himself starting to spiral down again, but before he can get too deep Takuto feels a warmth press up onto the small of his back, and it takes a second for him to realize that it's Kurusu’s hand.

“Breathe,” he hears the teenager say right after he has his realization. Takuto tries to do so, but both his chest and his throat still feels far too tight for him to do so. Any breath that he attempts to take in instead become shuddering gasps, and his body trembles.

The hand on his back starts to move in slow, gentle circles. “Breathe in and out with the movement of my hand,” Kurusu speaks again, this time with a firmness in his tone that Takuto can only follow. With Kurusu’s hand guiding him he times his breathing with each circle that the teenager draws on his back. It’s a struggle at first, but slowly and surely he finds himself able to start following after Kurusu’s wordless instructions, and eventually the squeezing sensation eases up enough for him to breathe properly again. 

To his surprise, Kurusu doesn’t pull away once that happens, instead lingering on for a while more before doing so. Takuto can’t exactly say that he minds it, though part of him knows it's simply an instinctive response for comfort after… after what he’d just experienced. Which, in a way, only makes him feel worse. What kind of person is he, to be desperate enough for something like this? 

The scrape of a chair brings Takuto out of his thoughts, and he looks to the source of the sound only to see that Kurusu has settled back down onto where he’d sat to eat his dinner earlier. Takuto’s cold plate sits between them, the untouched curry now cooled enough that a thin layer of starch has formed over the surface.

Seeing that brings about a new wave of shame within Takuto. Here he is, wasting his time, his effort, his patience… 

He opens his mouth to apologize. “I’m sorry—”

Kurusu cuts him off with a shake of his head. “It’s alright,” he says, “It’s my own fault, too. I should’ve given you some kind of warning beforehand.”

A wry smile crosses his face after those words. Takuto can only bring himself to look at it for a second before it suddenly feels too much, and he brings his gaze back down. “...you wouldn’t have known.” How could he? The only reason Kurusu knew about Rumi at all was due to what his Palace had shown. His past is one thing he would have never wanted to share with anyone, for nobody would have ever needed to know. All they needed to do was to be happy.

Kurusu lets out a loud breath through his nose, breaking the momentary silence that had settled in between them. “The idealized reality and the one in actuality are often far apart, and that gap is responsible for a lot of people’s pain.”

The words are unexpected enough that it causes Takuto to look up and over to Kurusu, who meets his confused expression with a steady, even gaze. 

“Do you remember?” Kurusu asks.

Takuto… blinks, feeling even more lost and confused than before. “Remember?” he can’t help but echo.

The expression on Kurusu’s face turns into something more gentle, then. “That was what you told me on the day we met.”

The memories come rushing back to him after that reminder. He recalls that day now; a day that’d been filled with both excitement and trepidation as he prepared himself on what he’d wanted to do. He can still remember how hard his heart had been pounding in his chest as he mustered the courage to walk up to Kurusu and his friends in the walkway after his introduction in the assembly hall, how he struggled with keeping his voice even and steady even as every part of him trembled in the sheer excitement of being given this chance to make his dream a reality. 

He remembers, then, how he’d believed that his meeting with the Phantom Thieves had to be a gift from god, and how horribly right those words were. Though he no longer has any of those abilities the memories remain, including those of the alternate realities that he’d glimpsed into. 

He’d seen it—the reality where he never had his chance, a reality where he’d been forced to give it up and simply faded into the background after Shido took everything away. The Thieves had still existed, then, and more importantly they had still been happy, even without being granted the perfect lives they wished for deep inside. 

He should have known then. Should have understood his folly and put a stop to it himself—but he also knows how deep he’d been in his own delusions by that point. How distorted he’d become. It’d already been too late for him.

(He’s always been too late for the lives that matter. With Rumi, with Akechi, with himself.)

“I hated it.”

The sharpness in Kurusu’s words and voice catch Takuto completely off guard. He finds himself blinking at the teenager once again, confusion momentarily overriding all his other emotions. “You… hated it?” 

Kurusu nods, then glances away. “I never asked for any of this. I didn’t want to have a record on me, to be shipped off to Tokyo without a word just because I decided to step in to help a stranger from somebody like Shido Masayoshi. I didn’t even know who he _was_ back then.” As he speaks the emotion in his voice slowly thickens, and by the end of it it's all too easy to hear the virtol behind Shido’s name. That’s hardly a surprise, considering how much the man had ruined his life, but at the same time…

It’s… different, hearing this now, when he’d known Kurusu to be nothing else but unfaltering and steadfast; a person who’d seen and felt and experienced so much strife and adversity and yet had somehow managed to stand through it all, even managing to come through it stronger than ever. Some might even go so far as to call him a hero—a term so rarely used in this day and age. 

The teenager looks back at him, and Takuto can only assume that some of his thoughts must have shown on his face because Kurusu’s expression quickly turns wry again. “I hated all of this first, you know.”

The unexpected—yet startlingly frank—admission has Takuto blinking, feeling even more thrown off now by being told all this. He can still remember how calm and quiet he’d been in their sessions, grey eyes always watching and observing, looking and noticing. Takuto had chalked up that behaviour to the circumstances behind his arrest and subsequent record, but perhaps… perhaps it’d been something else entirely. Maybe the calmness he’d seen in Kurusu then wasn’t that of quiet acceptance and understanding, but rather the simmering facade that happens before a raging storm. 

He sees it flash like a bolt of lightning in Kurusu’s eyes as he speaks again. “I hated being in Tokyo. I loathed being there with every fibre of my being. Everything was too loud, too bright, too much, and I was far away from anyone I could reach for.”

Takuto had lived in Tokyo for so long now that such sights and sounds were normal to him, but he could easily picture the city as how Kurusu felt it as he heard his words. Alone in a place so far removed from everything he’d been used to; noisy, busy streets that never seemed to be relieved of cars, walkways that continuously teemed with strangers who’d brush by you without a second glance. An entire city that would never sleep, always buzzing with noise and activity at any time of the day without a moment’s rest. For somebody unfamiliar in such an environment, it's understandable why it would be too much.

Even then, Takuto wouldn’t have ever imagined Kurusu to have been overwhelmed by something like that, when he’d faced things far more menacing and overbearing. It’s such a huge contrast to everything he’d seen in the teenager.

That contrast only deepens further at Kurusu’s next words. “All I wanted was to go home. To not have walked down that street that night. To not have crossed paths with Shido. I just wanted my life to go back to how it used to be.” He pauses then, gaze flickering downwards for a brief moment before he sighs and continues. “That feeling only grew while the whole thing with Kamoshida was going on, and even after that.”

Takuto isn’t entirely sure what to say or do, here. Nevermind the fact that he wasn’t already in a great spot from the beginning, but hearing all these things coming from Kurusu isn’t helping either. The gap between what he saw in Kurusu versus what he’s saying now feels like a large, impassable chasm that shouldn’t be crossed, yet here is Kurusu practically trying to drag him over with nothing but a rope around his waist.

The expression is, of course, figurative, but at the same time Takuto can’t deny the way his stomach twists inside him right now, making him feel as if he’s suspended in freefall. 

“With Kamoshida, I did it because everything was so personal. My probation was on the line, and there was the thing with Ann’s friend…” Another sigh. “It was easier to just focus on that. But when Kamoshida was said and done… things weren’t that simple. Ann and Ryuji wanted to keep doing it and I… I couldn’t bring myself to say no.” A quiet, almost self-deprecating laugh. “I was only starting to feel comfortable with them, you know? Nobody else would even talk to me because of my record. I didn’t want to be a Phantom Thief, but if it meant being able to stick around…”

He trails off, shrugging. “I was more scared about being alone again than anything else. More terrified about losing a place I was finally starting to have once again. All things considered, it's hardly the most noble reason.”

Kurusu looks at him at that point, as if trying to gauge his reaction. Takuto does nothing but to stare blankly in return, still feeling just as lost as before. What is Kurusu’s intention behind telling him all of this? In a way it feels like a callback to the days in Shujin, where they had their discussions in the guise of counselling. Though it’s only been a year, the memories feel like they come from another lifetime.

After a few more moments of silence Kurusu sighs again and looks away. “The thing is, even though I’m saying all of this now, back then I never realized it.” Brief pause. “No, it’s not that I didn’t realize it. It's that I didn’t want to admit it, not until I was forced to.”

His voice cracks a little at the end, and even in his current state Takuto can sense the weight of his emotions that made him waver so. Of course, the best he can do is to guess what lies behind them, but then he supposes that’s not really important. 

“That, and all the other things that happened…” He trails off again as his lips twist, expression turning into something of a grimace. “It was all so much, you know? But I couldn’t let it show. At first it was because I didn’t want to drive anyone away, and later because everyone was depending on me. At that point I couldn’t afford to let it show. I didn’t want any of my friends or close acquaintances to perceive me as weak.”

The urge to rebuff Kurusu’s words are right there, sitting on the tip of his tongue. _You’re not weak. You’re far from weak. You’re much stronger than you give yourself credit for._ They’re all there, ready to be spoken aloud at any moment, but Takuto can’t help but feel like that’s not what the teenager wants to hear. He isn’t entirely sure why he feels that way, but his intuition—

—well. He can’t say that his intuition _hasn’t_ failed him, considering everything that’s happened—but in this particular case, he thinks he can trust it well enough. 

It doesn’t take long to see that he made the right call; Kurusu leans back on his chair, now looking contemplative, clearly weighing something in his mind—something, Takuto notes, that seems to be uncomfortable for him, judging by his body language. 

Even the way he begins, so uncharastically hesitant and faltering, shows how hard it is for Kurusu to even voice it out. “But at… at some point, it just… it was too much.” His voice cracks again at the end, which in turn tells even more to Takuto. “A lot of the memories are hazy now, but one thing that stuck in my mind was that at one point, I simply thought… _why_.” 

Brief pause. A shuddering breath. And then he continues. “Why did all of this have to happen to me? It didn’t matter that I helped people. It didn’t matter what good I managed to do. It doesn’t change the fact that I never wanted it, never asked for it. I hated that I was stuck with this. It made me so, so angry.”

Again, Takuto finds himself at a loss for words, although this time it is for completely different reasons. He is at a loss because he finds himself emphasizing with Kurusu’s anger, much to his surprise. It’s the last thing he’d ever have thought he would feel, but it is a fact that that is exactly what is happening right now. The words echo in his mind, a reflection of thoughts that should have been long buried away but are now coming back in full force.

_I didn’t want this. I didn’t ask for this. I hate that I’m stuck like this._

He thought it then, when he’d sat on the chair next to Rumi’s bed and watched how she suffered while he remained helpless. He thought it then, on that night when he’d drunk himself into a stupor after being told that his research was being shut down so abruptly. He thought it then, as he stared up at the ceiling of his apartment day after day as February flew on by without his notice, as a world continued to revolve in a cruel, godless reality that had no need of him.

He thought it earlier, when he’d woken up from his dream, a once wonderful memory now spoiled and rotten from the sickly sweet embrace of Adam Kadmon’s power. 

“I was so angry,” Kurusu repeats himself, but this time Takuto feels the words so keenly as if the emotions behind them were his own. “I wanted nothing more than to let it all out and show how terrible I felt, but even that wasn’t an option for me.” He pauses again, the contemplative look from before returning, lingering on for several more moments before he shakes his head and corrects himself, “No, that’s not it. The choice was always there. I only convinced myself that it wasn’t there.”

_(“But life in this world confines people to certain frames of mind sometimes, and without them even realizing it.”)_

Takuto remembers exactly when and where he’d said those words as they come back to him, as if called upon by what Kurusu just said. At that point he’d been so close to finishing his paper, though he wouldn’t have known then that the excitement he’d been feeling back then would be nothing compared to what happened later. 

A moment of incomparable joy… followed by an eternity of incomparable pain. 

Takuto finally shifts his gaze away from Kurusu to stare down at his own hands, currently clenched into fists as they rest on his lap. He can’t deny the fact that he feels _stuck_ ; even after everything he’s done and tried in the last few months all he can see is that he’s made neither progress nor resolution since the night on top of Odaiba. Even now it seems like all he’s doing is desperately scraping at the brittle shards of what’d once been his world, trying to gather them back even as their sharp edges cut into his fingers and palms, bleeding out whatever little is left of him.

“It’s hard, isn’t it?” This time, Kurusu’s voice cuts into his thoughts as cleanly as a hot knife through butter. “To tell yourself that it's okay to be angry. That it's okay to feel sad, to feel pain, to feel anything that is remotely negative. We’ve so thoroughly convinced ourselves that feeling bad is wrong that we beat ourselves about it the moment any of us feel even an inkling of negativity.” 

The words hit Takuto completely by surprise—so much that it gets a choked gasp out of him. Things don’t so much as click for him, but rather come with a sudden clarity that he hadn’t realized (no, didn’t _want_ to realize) before. How he never let himself grieve for Rumi in the past because it would interfere with his work into cognitive psience. Never letting himself stop and continue moving on because he couldn’t afford to. His wish to remove pain from everyone’s heart. So many things, big and small, all coming together now, coalescing into a single realization that he can no longer turn away from.

The truth: that he’d been running away from his true feelings, this entire time. 

The realization must have shown on his face, because when Kurusu speaks again, his tone is now far more gentle. “It was hard, but once I realized it, and allowed myself to confront it, I finally felt more like myself again. I didn’t need to always be the leader of the Phantom Thieves, the person everyone was depending on… a figure to be looked up to. I could just be me again. The real me, instead of the idealized version people were looking for.”

The real Kurusu… the words are odd to hear, since Takuto had always seen the teenager as nothing but genuine every time they met. But since it is Kurusu himself who said it, he cannot refute it. He has to accept the fact that the teenager who had made such a profound impact in his life had only let him see a small, polished part of himself, akin to the masks that he would always wear within the Metaverse.

Had that been how he lived during his day to day in Tokyo? To put on a different mask for every person he meets, playing out his intended role in their lives, to be whatever they needed in that moment, almost like one of those rent a friend services except worse, because the only one who benefitted was whoever Kurusu would be with instead of the teenager himself. 

The torrent of emotions that rise from within Takuto then is indescribable. There is hurt—a pain that stems from the fact that Kurusu never found him trustworthy enough to be himself back then, and there is sadness, from realizing how much of himself Kurusu must have lost before coming to terms with this, and so many other varied, myriad emotions that currently run through him. But underneath it all—to Takuto’s own surprise—there is a foundation of understanding. Of acceptance, and empathy that can only come from someone who had experienced something inherently similar. 

It takes a second for Takuto to realize where that similarity comes from, because up until that moment he didn’t even know he’d been doing it himself, too. Putting on a mask everyday to hide from his grief and sorrow, only ever showing people a fraction of himself that he’s put effort into making accepted by as many as possible. 

( _Isn’t that ironic,_ says the voice in his head, though for some reason it now lacks it's usual scathing venom.)

“None of us will ever be able to become the idealized version of ourselves that we wish to be.” It’s all too easy now to hear the regret in Kurusu’s voice, and Takuto appreciates it just as much as he hates it. “But I think the harder thing to do is to accept that the ideal is never what we truly want. It will never be anything more than a dream.”

Takuto tenses upon hearing those words. His fists clench, and his nails dig into his lap, though it doesn’t give him the sting of sensation that he hopes for. But there is enough to _feel_ , and right now all Takuto wants to do is to feel because—he needs to feel something because—

“A dream, huh…?”

The words slip out from him even before he realizes he’s speaking aloud; a whole day and more of prolonged silence and many tears has turned his voice rough and scratchy, but in the silence they ring out as clear as day. 

Not that it matters anymore. Nothing matters now, at this point.

“That’s all it’ll ever be, isn’t it? Just a dream that everyone has already forgotten.”

The most wonderful, amazing dream that anyone could ever have—destined to be forgotten as soon as it's over, for the human mind has evolved to only ever hold onto the bad as a means of survival. To remember the bad so that one won’t make the same mistakes again and risk their own self destruction, but if doing that means that one can never remember the good in their life, then—

“I worked my whole life for it—gave up everything for it—but in the end it was for nothing.” Every word scrapes the inside of his throat, and it hurts like _hell_ but it is the pain that keeps making him talk, that causes his voice to get louder even though doing that only makes the hurt worse. 

( _”You’ve always wanted it to hurt.”_ )

“All these years,” he chokes out the words, feeling the weight of them against his chest all at once as he says it. “And it amounts to nothing. And to top it all off, Rumi’s dead. She died because of my mistake and she’s never coming back.”

She’s dead. Dead and buried and gone and left behind. All because of him, of what he did; his terrible, selfish act. 

“I just wanted it to stop hurting.” 

Every morning, as he stares at the spaces in his apartment that could’ve been occupied by another. A chair across the kitchen table that will now always be empty, a toothbrush holder that was made for two but now only serves one. A kitchenette so unused that he eventually had to wipe down the layer of dust that had formed across the surface because it’d been triggering his allergies.

Every afternoon, as he thumbs through the contacts on his phone for work and sees the entry that he could never bring himself to delete. A specific folder locked with a certain password that he never dares to use, even though the temptation is always there. Invitations to double dates and marriage ceremonies from long time friends in chat groups he has stopped talking in but still remain on. 

Every night, as he comes back to a house that he knows has remained silent throughout the whole day. Where until now he has boxes left from his move that are still untouched and unopened, their contents still sealed with countless layers of tape and bubble wrap because he couldn’t bear it if any of them had broken, but can never bring himself to properly check. A TV that he’d bought when he first moved in but still hadn’t peeled off the protective plastic over the screen, because he knows the only thing he would see when he turns it on would be report after report about another crime, another tragedy, another loss that he couldn’t stop.

It hurts. All of those moments hurt so much, and they still continue to hurt even now. The only reason why he can’t feel them now is because they’re eclipsed by a far greater pain, so overwhelming and massive that the only way Takuto can see it stopping is by ending it all.

“I wanted it to _stop_.”

Stop the pain that has festered for so long, from a wound that has been ruthlessly reopened day after day as he lives through the days, weeks, months and years since the incident. The incident printed on this thin, flimsy piece of paper that Kurusu had placed before his eyes; a report of a tragedy that the world has long forgotten about and moved on from. 

He wants to burn it. Crumple it. Rip it to pieces and stomp on them until nothing remains. 

Why did the world have to take everything from him? 

It wasn’t _fair_.

“No, it isn’t fair.”

Kurusu’s unexpected response takes him by surprise, enough for Takuto to look over to him while his mind whirls in shock and disbelief. He didn’t even realize he had said it aloud… but more than that, he has even less of an idea just what it is what Kurusu is telling him. Or even what he’s trying to do in the first place.

“What happened to you wasn’t fair,” the teenager repeats himself. “And you have every right to be angry. Everyone in the world all has their own experience of pain and loss and grief and anger, and most of them are no less significant than the other.” He pauses for a moment to take a breath, and continues on. “No matter what happens, the world will never stop turning, and time will keep on going. The best that any of us can do… is to keep moving with the flow of the universe that revolves around us.”

The words are logical, he knows. Logical, and sensible, and delivered in the gentlest way possible. For he has always known Kurusu to be kind and understanding, upright and infallible. But how much of that was actually true, after what he admitted earlier? How much of that had been a mask, a show for him? And just how much of what he’s saying _now_ is something that he can truly believe in? 

Confusion turns to frustration, and then boils to anger that Takuto can no longer hold back. It bubbles over, spilling everywhere, filling the void that’d been inside of him for so long. 

“It’s easy for you to say that now,” he hears himself spitting out, and a tiny part of him is horrified at his sudden, unjustified rage, but the rest of him doesn’t care about that. Why should he care, when the world doesn’t? Why should he try, when he knows now that it will never get him anywhere? It’s not fair, not fair, _not fair_. “You’re the one who _won_. You won the game and you have everything you want, while I… I don’t have anything anymore. We fought, and I lost, and my punishment is to pick up the pieces.” 

Something flickers in Kurusu’s eyes at his outburst—it might have been sympathy, or pain, or guilt, or something else entirely—but he remains silent, opting to say nothing in response. 

At any other time he would have taken that as a sign to stop, to pull himself back before he truly goes overboard, but he’s too far gone in his own all-encompassing anger to even think about stopping. Kurusu’s silence simply gives him a reason to keep going. 

“I was trying, you know?” Just like how he now tries to ignore the way his voice cracks. “I was trying so hard to move on, to put the past behind me and start fresh, to make up for the wrongs that I’ve done.” He shredded all his papers on cognitive psience and burned them into ashes, threw away all his books, removed himself as far away from the field as he could. It’d hurt so much to throw away his life’s work like that, but it’d been necessary. That had been his way of making amends, to ensure that nothing like that would ever happen again. But in the end—

“But in the end it doesn’t matter at all, does it? I could do a million and one things and it wouldn’t change the fact that Rumi’s dead because of me. Rumi’s dead because of what I did to her. She’s dead and gone and I can never see her again.”

Takuto can feel the corners of his eyes beginning to sting as the tears form, and crying is something he would have never willingly done in front of anyone but at this point he’s already lost everything so he can’t even bring himself to care anymore. What use is there in caring when there is nothing left?

“I’ve lost everything,” he chokes out, “While you and your friends get to live happily ever after. And I just—” He feels himself starting to shake with barely restrained anger, emotions once kept under lock and key now rising up and boiling over. “I’m always going to be here, without anything now, because that’s what I deserve, that’s the punishment I get for what I’ve done, and Rumi—”

He cuts himself off with a choked sob; just saying Rumi’s name alone is hard enough as it is. All this time he’d managed to go on because he knew she was still in this world, living the life that she deserved, without any pain or grief—

A life now that wasn’t only gone, but taken away by his own hands. What is left for him now, in a world that’s devoid of her existence? A reality where he can never see her again, even from far away? He can’t do it. He can’t, he can’t, he _can’t_.

He can’t do this anymore.

An impulse surges through him, giving him the energy he needs to stand up from the table, which he does without hesitation. Kurusu makes a startled sound at that but Takuto can’t bring himself to care any more. He doesn’t want to care, he can’t, everything is too much and he just wants it to _stop_.

He walks to the kitchen without thinking twice and heads towards the counters, heedless to any background noise that happens while he does so. He can’t listen to anything else beyond the buzzing in his head, the callous voice that’d been quiet earlier now coming back in full force, spitting out the words that Takuto had been keeping bottled up inside him ever since that night when everything had fallen apart.

( _“This is what you deserve. The world doesn’t need you anymore. The only thing left for you to do is to **die**.”_)

The knife block is right there.

Takuto reaches out for it, ready to grab the first one he can get to, but before he can do so a familiar hand grasps his own, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Don’t,” Kurusu breathes out, his voice coming out strained, as if trying to hold back a myriad of emotions on his own end.

Hearing somebody sound like that would have been enough to elicit sympathy from Takuto once upon a time, but benevolent is the last thing he feels right now. If anything it only brings about a new wave of anger within him—anger that Kurusu had the audacity to sound like that after what he’s done—but that quickly fades away as the guilt and self-hate comes rolling in soon after. 

They won. Kurusu and his friends won, and their prize was the true reality that they believed was worth fighting for. A reality that he rejected, and now has in turn rejected him. And if so, then it only makes that for him to—for him to disappear. He _should_ disappear, so that nobody else has to suffer for his mistakes any longer.

He starts to struggle against Kurusu’s grip. “Let go.”

The teenager remains adamant. “I told you last time,” he grits out through clenched teeth. “I’m not letting it end like this.”

He tightens his grip on Takuto’s hand after those words and starts to try and pull his hand back. Takuto continues to fight against him, unwilling to relent, for he has already lost everything else. This is the one thing left that he can have—to end things on his own terms, once and for all.

“Are you going to take this away from me, too?” He doesn’t even realize what he’s said until he feels Kurusu’s hand tense up, but it doesn’t matter any more. Takuto takes that chance and shakes off the teenager’s hand, and the moment he’s free he reaches for the knife once more, knowing that this time, he can finally—

“I’m sorry.”

Takuto freezes at that, completely taken aback by the abrupt apology, then even more so when Kurusu pulls away from him and moves away instead of continuing to fight against him. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and the confusion mounts further—enough for Takuto to drop his arm and turn over to face the teenager and look at his face while it's set on an expression of discomfort.

But despite that, Kurusu still steadfastly fixes his gaze on him once their eyes meet, and when he speaks his tone betrays none of the emotions that currently play on his face. 

“What happened back then, back in February… it was necessary. I know you were only trying to do what you thought was right, and we… no.” He stops to shake his head, and then corrects himself. “What _I_ wanted to do was to stop somebody who I’ve come to consider as a friend from making a costly mistake.”

“But that doesn’t mean I’m not sorry for what we’ve done,” he quickly continues on before Takuto can even think of anything after the first bit of what he’d said. “Or that I regret what happened. I mean, I don’t regret our decision, but I do regret what was done because of what we as the Phantom Thieves decided.”

What they decided that day—to choose a world full of agony and strife, of chaos and disaster, a life that would be inevitably full of constant hardships and unavoidable pain. The world they fought for, and won. The world that both of them will always be stuck in, with no way out. The world Takuto had rejected, and is now being rejected in turn. 

This is a world where he no longer belongs.

“We did what we had to do,” Kurusu says, his voice quieter now. “And even until Shido, it was easy to keep it that way. He and his cronies were all rotten to the core, and changing their hearts was something I didn’t even stop to question. Their hearts were changed, and they went to serve the punishments they rightfully deserved.”

Takuto remembers the news for all of their targets. Almost all of them were put on trial and sent to prison once their crimes were properly sentenced—Shido included. Of course, it only made sense to do so. They were all criminals who committed grave felonies, and so given their due punishment. 

But in his case, where his crime is forgotten to all but a few… since he cannot be judged, all he can do is to make amends. But now even that has fallen apart, and he can see for himself how futile any of his attempts are. If nothing he does is enough to fix his wrongs, then…

“It was easy to tell myself that Shido and everyone else before him deserved what they got, that it's their payback for all the hurt they’ve caused to others.” Kurusu pauses again, this time to let out a sigh. “It was easy to put them out of my mind after I saw their change of heart taking place. So when I saw you that night, I…” 

He trails off, the discomfort on his face now more evident than before. A poignant silence hangs between them for several moments before Kurusu finally finishes what he’d wanted to say. “...it finally occurred to me, then, I guess, that I was unconsciously treating you the same way I treated them, when all was said and done, even though I knew you were nothing like any of them. And that… that wasn’t fair to you.”

Another sigh. “And once I realized that… It reminded me of how I was around this time last year. How I thought the entire world was against me, and how I kept everything inside of me bottled up tight because I believed nobody would ever care to listen to someone like me.”

The words hit Takuto harder than he’d ever expected it to do so; it’s almost as if he’d been punched right in the gut. But the only reason it hurts is because of how true the words ring within him. 

Still, even then, part of him rebels against those words, and that rebellion is loud enough for him to open his mouth and start to speak. “I…” A million words swirl in his mind, each of them demanding to be spoken, yet for some reason he can’t make himself voice out a single one. 

_I deserve this. Nobody should care about me. The world doesn’t need me. The only good thing I’m for now is to die._

A sad look appears on Kurusu’s face, as if he’d somehow managed to hear the words anyway. “I know that after everything that’s happened anything that I’ve said tonight can feel… fake.” He takes one step closer to where Takuto stands. “But I just wanted you to know… I’m sorry, and I still consider you a friend, if you’re still willing to have me.” 

A friend. Kurusu still regarded him as a _friend_ , even after everything that had happened between them. A friend who’d tried to do everything to help him, even after Takuto lied to him, betrayed his wishes, kept making mistake after mistake and refused to give up even when he gave up on _himself_.

He doesn’t deserve something like this. Not after what he’d done, not after what he’d lost. He was supposed to have lost everything, wasn’t he? But here was Kurusu, telling him otherwise—

Somehow, it's that thought which does it, after everything else that has happened in the last few days and then some. He feels the tears dripping off his chin and rolling down his neck before he even realizes that he’s crying, but once it sinks in he can’t stop himself from wailing out loud as he falls onto his knees, suddenly losing all the strength in his legs. 

Kurusu joins him a few seconds later, though Takuto only knows this because the teenager comes to wrap his arms around him, holding him in a hug that only causes Takuto to let out a loud keen.

( _When was the last time somebody tried to comfort you?_ the voice asks—this time in a quieter, more mournful voice.

Takuto doesn’t reply. It responds anyway.

 _There’s your answer._ )

“Let it out,” he hears Kurusu say, his voice just barely audible over the sound of his own sobbing. “Don’t hold anything back. Let it all out… I promise this time I’ll listen to everything that you have to say.”

Takuto has nothing left to defend himself at this point. The dam within him breaks, any remnants crumbling into pieces by the subsequent avalanche of emotions that come pouring out now that there is no longer anything to hold them back. Takuto lets it all out just as Kurusu told him to, every last bit of his pain and anger and sorrow and grief coming out in the form of words that spill out from his lips as he babbles anything and everything that crosses his mind without a second thought. 

He talks about how much he missed Rumi, even when she was still alive. How he tried to keep going for her sake, knowing that she was still at least living a good life. The shock he felt when he got the news of her death. The numbness of the days leading up to attending her funeral. The horror of connecting the pieces together, and realizing exactly why she decided to end her own life. 

He talks about the guilt he felt after that, the agony of knowing that he is the reason behind her actions. Of how the loss he’d felt was so deep it’d been almost as if a part of him had been carved out and then ruthlessly smashed into pieces. How the void left over was later filled by his anger and resentment to a world that allowed her to die, and knowing that the only person who he could blame for was himself and his foolishness.

He talks about his anger turning into hate, how it’d been the only thing on his mind in the hours where he mindlessly drove in the car Kurusu found him in, and how many times he kept thinking about simply ending it all. It would’ve been a release, for he is now just so very tired of everything. 

Kurusu simply hums a quiet note of affirmation, and that singular sound somehow manages to ease away some of the terrible, gnawing guilt that festers in his gut. 

Takuto’s breath hitches. His tears have finally run dry. “I didn’t want her to die. She didn’t deserve to die. It should’ve been me.”

Kurusu doesn’t respond. He simply continues to keep his hold on Takuto while remaining still.

And really, that is enough for him.

It is the best he can ask for.

* * *

_when takuto opens his eyes, the only thing he can see is_ blue _._

_“Welcome… to the Velvet Room.”_

_a figure appears before him, quickly coming into focus. it is a girl with blonde hair that goes past her waist, wearing a dress in hues of blue that somehow manages to convey the elegance that she carries despite her small stature. bright, golden eyes stare at him, their gaze brimming with curiosity._

_takuto stares back at her as his mind attempts to retrace the events that happened prior to this. he remembers the wind and the thunderous beat of a helicopter coming to him from above. the tight grip of kurusu’s hand around his own as the teenager keeps him from falling while he dangles over odaiba._

(“So bright…”)

_he remembers murmuring those words as the light of the helicopters drown out everything in his vision. the last thing he’d seen was the warm smile on kurusu’s face before everything had vanished into darkness._

_“Please, do not be alarmed.” the girl’s voice, calm and clear, cuts into his thoughts before they can spiral, as if she’d already anticipated his reaction. “This place is between dream and reality, mind and matter. It is a safe space, for the brief time that it still exists.”_

_takuto blinks at her particular choice of words. “‘Still exists’?”_

_a smile appears on her face. “The Trickster has finished his journey, and so no longer needs our services. The Velvet Room only exists when our aid is required.” she pauses, and a sad tinge now appears in her smile. “Eventually, this place will no longer exist, but time has always been a nebulous thing within this space.”_

_she takes a step forward towards him, and it's only then does takuto realize that he’s currently sitting on a chair. there’s nothing special about said chair, but the fact that it even exists at all in… whatever this place is feels significant, somehow._

_the sadness on the girl’s face deepens further. “I see,” she says, and takuto knows those words are not meant for him even though there’s only the two of them here._

_she reaches out and palms the side of his face, and when she speaks he can easily hear the regret in her voice. “You are… hurt. Your heart has been fractured for a long, long time, and the manifestation of your rebellion worsened it.”_

_takuto feels as if a pit had just opened up in his gut. “I…” somehow, he knows exactly what she is referring to, despite the fact that both her and this place is still a mystery to him. the look in her eyes feels—otherworldly, perhaps even omnipotent._

_or maybe it's just him projecting what he wants to feel, and somehow her eyes and face reflect that back at him as she pulls away and takes a step back to return the distance between them._

_“One day, this place will be for you, the same way it was for the Trickster.” he can hear the apologetic tone in her voice this time, though it gives little relief as he realizes that the world is dimming around him, slowly turning everything back into darkness. “But… not yet. First, your heart needs to heal.”_

_her form begins to fade, melding into the darkness, and takuto tries to call for her but stops because he realizes he doesn’t know what to say._

_she smiles at him one last time before disappearing entirely, and takuto falls back into unconsciousness._

_the dream has long vanished by the time he wakes back up in the darkness of his room, but somewhere deep inside him, a part of him holds onto the words, even if he no longer remembers it._

_“I look forward to the day when you can enter this room under your own power.”_

Warm, comforting sunlight greets Takuto when he opens his eyes. The windows are open, letting in the sound of bright, happy chirping of birds from the outside. The scent of freshly made curry wafts down from the hallway, making his stomach growl for much needed sustenance.

He gets out of bed and stands steady on his own two feet. His eyes are puffy and his nose is stuffy, but his mind and heart are both light.

A clatter sounds out from the kitchen.

“Morgana, _stop_.”

“No!”

Takuto doesn’t laugh, but he feels the ghost of a smile play on his lips as he lets himself take those few steps out of Kurusu’s room. 

It’s not a lot, in the grand scheme of things. It is not ideal. But it is a start.

And for now, that is good enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh this chapter got very long. And also very hard to write, for many reasons.
> 
> I know some people will probably think how incredibly dramatic and over the top Maruki is in here, but I think--and from my own personal experience--that the amount of things Maruki has kept inside himself and just how long it'd been means that when the bottle does pop, it won't be very pretty. Plus adding Rumi - who is literally the center of his motivations - now dying, I think, really just kinda makes things x 10000 worse. So its basically just terrible times all around.
> 
> But though this chapter is long, ultimately I felt its kinda necessary. It's more or less the culmination of what I wanted to touch on with Maruki in a post canon scenario, which involves things such as him holding himself responsible for the things that happened to him even though some of it were frankly beyond his control, or my interpretation of him kinda more or less low key hero-worshipping Joker, alongside the foils that they are for each other, and many other things. A lot of the things in here were hard for me to write too, as it hit home to stuff I've been feeling since being laid off my job and still having to deal with life etc. during these times. 
> 
> I think overall I'm... happy enough with this chapter as it is. Maybe one day in the future I'll scrub it over fully and make it not as messy, but for now I've worked on this for too long to be able to do that properly haha.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's been sticking through this fic all this time, and hope you enjoy this chapter. Next chapter will fully wrap everything up, so look forward to that. :)
> 
> ( **P.S.** Do watch this [youtube video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8D7euqMTk-k) where somebody takes a deep dive into Maruki's psychology in the game. I personally found it very interesting and enjoyable, and also love any cool content about Maruki in general haha. They also did a series where they dissected and talked about [all his counseling scenes/sessions](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLajsQ-GLmZX4IJAzxk3OerVOS414aHb58) through the game!)


	8. tomorrow.

The sun hangs low in the sky when Takuto decides to start making the trip back home.

“You’re sure?” is the first thing that Kurusu asks him after he vocalizes his intent. 

Takuto quickly nods to show his certainty. “I think… I’ll be alright now on my own.” He has no doubt that there’ll be days where things are going to be a struggle, but—it’s only natural for days like that to happen. All he can do is to try and take things one step at a time with every passing day. “And besides, I’ve imposed on you long enough. I’m surprised your parents haven’t said anything at all.” Not that he’s even so much as seen them, but considering everything… it wouldn’t be too surprising if he just somehow missed them.

But to his surprise, Kurusu cracks a grin. “That’s because they’re currently enjoying a vacation over at Sendai,” he says, amusement dancing across his face. “I guess you could call it a case of good timing.”

Something in his response (or perhaps it's from his expression) casts a bit of doubt in the words, but Takuto knows better than to try and pry further. Personal experience has shown him how strangely coincidental things can be when he least expects it. He wouldn’t be terribly surprised if something similar happened this time. (Which, considering now, he supposes had been for the best.)

“I’ll take your word for it.” He looks behind him to where his rented car is, it's polished surface reflecting off the warm orange hues of the setting sun. Apparently Kurusu had sent it to the local garage for repairs and it’d only been completed earlier today—yet another case of strangely good timing. Maybe that meant something. Maybe. Takuto supposes he’ll think about it on the drive back to Tokyo. 

He turns back to Kurusu, who is now joined by Morgana perching on his shoulder. The cat peers at him, giving him a quick once over before nodding to show his approval. “You look much better compared to when you first came here. You’re going to be fine.”

Takuto manages a small smile at that. “Thank you,” he says, and fully means it, for he knows that Morgana has never been the kind to sugarcoat his words. In a way, it feels reassuring to hear him say that; it makes it easier to believe that he can be alright, or at least be able to properly embark on the path to get there.

He bows slightly to the both of them. “I owe a lot to the both of you this time. Especially you, Kurusu. Thank you for taking care of me these last few days.”

When he straightens back up he sees Kurusu shaking his head. “It’s the least I can do,” he replies, quickly waving it off. “And… well, you can just call me Akira. We’re friends after all, right?”

Friends. It’s still a surprise that the teenager is willing to extend out that friendship even after everything that has happened between them. Part of Takuto still can’t help but feel that he doesn’t deserve this, but… well. Kurusu has long proved himself to be unfaltering in the things he is willing to put his foot down on, and it would be a lie if Takuto said he doesn’t appreciate the gesture. If anything, for now it's something precious he can hold onto as he walks down the path of his own self-recovery. 

“...yes,” he finally responds after a moment’s pause, the smile on his face widening just a little bit more. 

Kuru— _Akira_ smiles, and extends his hand out for Takuto to take. He does so, and as they shake hands he’s stuck by the memory of the last time they did this, back on his last day at Shujin. Back then the both of them had their secrets to keep, with an unspoken chasm between them stemming from their difference in ideals. 

Now, though, things are different. The chasm has closed, and there are no more secrets to hide, which is surprisingly freeing. It’s a feeling Takuto realizes he hasn’t had for a long time. With luck, it’ll stick around for a while.

Takuto thinks he won’t have to worry about that too much.

* * *

One of the first things that Takuto does once he’s on the road is to send a text to Shibusawa.

> `**TO:** Shibusawa  
>  _Sent 18:37_`
> 
> ` _Letting you know that I’m alright. Currently on the way back to Tokyo.  
>  Let me know when you’re free to meet up for a meal. My treat._ `

  
Despite the genial tone of his message, Takuto can feel his heart pounding in his chest once he hits ‘send’. It’s impossible to not feel any sort of anxiety, especially considering how he’d run off and left his friend behind, followed by the days of prolonged silence after that. Anyone would’ve assumed the worst case scenario.

It doesn’t take very long before his phone pings with a new message, and now Takuto feels his heart threatening to leap up his throat as nervousness takes root. Part of him is already bracing himself for the worst kind of response (anger and hate and _I’m done with you, Maruki_ ) but he does his best to assuage himself of those worries. Shibusawa has always been willing to listen first before making any kind of decision or judgement about anything. He can only hope that this would run a similar course, though he can’t say he wouldn’t understand why if it wasn’t. 

Regardless, he can think about all of that later if he has to, depending on how Shibusawa replies. Takuto pulls the car to a stop at the first chance he gets, then takes a moment to steel himself before he picks up his phone and turns on the screen to see the message that Shibusawa had sent to him.

> `**FROM:** Shibusawa  
>  _Sent 18:46_`
> 
> ` _Appreciate the update. Good to know you’re alright.  
>  I’ll let you know tomorrow when I’ve got time in my schedule.  
>  Take care of yourself until then, yeah?_ `

  
Takuto rereads the message several times to fully assure himself that he wasn’t reading anything wrong, and once he feels certain the anxiety quickly eases away. He finds himself letting out a much shakier sigh then he’d expected and slouches against the driver’s seat. Judging from the tone of the message it seems like things between them are going to be just fine, which is the best he could ask for.

A minute of silence passes by before it's broken by his phone pinging with another message notification. Takuto blinks in surprise, then brings his phone back up to see what it's about.

> `**FROM:** Shibusawa  
>  _Sent 18:49_`
> 
> ` _I guess I should let you know - the kid (Kurusu?) informed me about you when he found you the other day.  
>  He told me that you didn’t look good and was going to stay with him until you recovered._ `

  
A third message comes in just as he finishes reading, popping up right underneath the last.

> ` _For what it’s worth, I’m glad he found you._ `

  
Gratitude rushes through Takuto as he reads the message. He hesitates for just a moment before summoning up the courage to respond.

> ` _I’m thankful, too._ `

  


* * *

The journey back to Tokyo is long, but Takuto doesn’t find himself worried about that. He simply lets himself enjoy the ride, stopping every once in a while to let himself rest and stretch his legs. Being this far out from the city areas at this time of night means that the air is crisp and fresh, which helps in keeping his spirits up.

Takuto knows that this tranquility won’t last forever. Once he returns to Tokyo there will be many things that require his attention, and life won’t feel as peaceful and enjoyable as it is now. But even though there is a part of him that still wants to turn away from all those difficulties Takuto knows that he can’t do that forever. Sooner or later, he is going to have to face all those problems and deal with them, regardless of the outcome. There will be some that end terribly, yes, but there will be others that won’t be as bad as his mind makes it out to be.

Either way, he knows now that he cannot control all the bad things that happen in his life. They will always happen, no matter how hard he tries to prevent it, and they will always hurt. But what he can do is to learn to move on past the hurt, instead of letting it consume him like before.

It's undoubtedly a tall order, and Takuto has no idea if he’ll ever truly get there… but it’s probably at least worth trying instead of eternally stewing in the same place. He’s already experienced for himself how futile it is to do that. 

Eventually, the first glimpses of Tokyo’s skyline begin to greet him in the distance. It won’t be very far now to get back into the city, but before that…

Takuto pulls over at the first good spot that he can find and gets out of the car one more time. The sky is still dark—though not for long, if the information on his phone is accurate. Which is precisely what he is hoping for.

He glances at the area next to where he’d parked. It’s nothing terribly special; just an area off the road that most likely serves as a sort of accessway to reach the canal on the other side. Though judging by how overgrown the grass is, this place probably hasn’t been used for a long time. 

Takuto gets over the barrier and carefully walks himself halfway down the slope before stopping. He finds a spot where the grass isn’t as bad and then slowly settles himself down, gaze already turned up towards the sky above him. 

He remembers the many nights where he and Rumi used to spend like this. It’d been one of the first things they did together long before they were a couple, and it never stopped even after they became a thing. He’d loved each and every moment he had with Rumi under the stars, and so when the incident happened he could never really bring himself to do this again, for all he could only imagine back then was the pain and hurt of losing everything.

Now… they’re still there, but they’re no longer as all encompassing as they used to be. It’ll always be a part of him, but it no longer defines him like it had before. Or at least, that is the hope that he has. Only time will really tell if he can truly hold onto those words, but Takuto feels fairly confident. And when the time comes where it does feel too much… he knows now that there are people he can turn to help him until he’s ready again.

_I wonder what you must think of me now, Rumi,_ Takuto thinks to himself as he traces out one of countless constellations that dot the slowly lightening sky. In a matter of minutes they’ll all vanish, swallowed up by the blazing light of the sun—but they are not gone forever. Once the sun sets they’ll be right back where they were; maybe a little different than before, but they’re still there, and the cycle will continue until they eventually burn out in the far, far future.

_(“Even the stars don’t last forever, Takuto.”_

_he blinks at the words, sudden as they are, unable to hide the confusion that must have appeared on his face. “Um. Sorry?”_

_rumi lets out a quiet chuckle at his reaction. “See? That’s what I mean.”_

_“...” takuto turns his gaze down to the half-opened book on his lap that he’d admittedly been reading rather intently before rumi interrupted him. he makes a move to close it. “You should’ve told me if I was ignoring you.”_

_another amused sound from rumi. “No, you weren’t,” she says, and takuto can’t deny the immediate relief that runs through him when he hears that. there are many things he can forgive himself for overlooking, but not paying attention to rumi when she needs it—unintentional or not—is definitely not one of them. she is too important for that._

_“But,” she goes on to add, which only serves to return the tension in his body. mirth dances in rumi’s eyes then, as if well aware of the effects her words currently have on him. “I am a_ little _hurt that you’re doing your reading instead of looking at the stars with me. I thought you told me that you had already delivered all your papers.”_

_“Ah… yes.” takuto flushes, somehow feeling like the kid who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I’ve submitted my work for the semester, but I thought it’d be good to have a head start for the next one.”_

_rumi makes a disbelieving noise this time round. “Next semester is_ months _away, Takuto!”_

_“...the early bird catches the worm?”_

_More like a worm that probably hasn’t even been born yet.”_

_takuto feels his face heat up even more. “...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”_

_rumi lets out a snort. “And people tell me I’m the sensitive one.” she sighs at that, then reaches over with a hand and places it over his own. “I’m not hurt, Takuto. You know that your work ethic is one of the many things I admire about you, but… it doesn’t hurt to take a moment to relax, you know?”_

_“I am relaxing. This is relaxing.” even as he says that, however, takuto already feels himself wincing._

_rumi, thankfully, is merciful enough to not call him out on it. “I don’t doubt it, it’s just…” she trails off with a contemplative look for several moments before she nods and speaks up again. “Even now, you’re always thinking about the future. Not that it's a bad thing, of course, but if you keep worrying about all the things that could happen you’ll miss the things that are happening right now around you.”_

_takuto manages not to grimace at the gentle reprimand. rumi is, and will always be, the light in his life, and so he always can’t help but feel it as a personal failing when he does something that has her worry about him. but her kindness is what had drawn her to him, and it would be hypocrisy to tell her to stop._

_“...I’ll make sure to keep my hands empty the next time we come here,” is what he says after several more moments of silence._

_there’s no immediate response from rumi this time. takuto keeps his gaze downwards, somehow unable to find the courage within himself to look at her face to see what emotions are currently there._

_after what feels like a very long time, rumi quietly sighs and takes both of his hands to hold it in her own. “Just promise me something, Takuto.”_

_the sudden weight of her words has takuto looking up to her now, and the expression that he sees on her face takes him by surprise. there’s a seriousness to it that he has never seen before in all the years that they have been together, framed by her steady gaze and ever present smile._

_he’s surprised enough that it takes him a second to remember that she is waiting for his reply. he nods. “Anything.”_

_something foreign flickers in rumi’s eyes then—something that almost feels sad—but before takuto can dwell on them his attention is taken up by what she says next. words that he wouldn’t have ever known how important they would become in the near future after that night._

_“No matter what happens in the future… please, always remember to be happy. Even if that means having to put me behind.”)_

Takuto remembers how confused he’d been back then, to hear those words from Rumi. But now, he thinks he understands why she’d told him that. 

_I’m sorry I failed you, Rumi._

Even now, he supposes he is still failing, to even think that. For so long he’d been stuck in his own sorrow and pain, unable to see past it even though he thought he had. When Kurusu and his friends defeated him at the top of Odaiba it’d only shattered the illusion he’d held up so long for himself, but even after that he still clung onto the fragments, desperate to put them back together. 

But holding onto them only ended up hurting him even more. Rumi is… Rumi is gone, and he knows he has to accept that. Even in time many of his cherished memories of her will also fade, as all memories eventually do, as how even the longest lasting star will inevitably burn out.

Nothing lasts forever. There is no exception to that. Not even the greatest joy… or the deepest sorrow. One way or another, an end will eventually come, be it by his own hand or from another. 

But the end does not mean there is nothing left, like what he’d thought. What he had believed. He is past his end, but the world still turns. Life still continues. And he… he is still alive. And perhaps that alone is enough to mean something. 

Back then, she’d told him to leave her behind if that meant being happy. Doing that, even now, feels like an end to a significant part of his life. Significant… but not everything. He is still here, in the end. And as long as he is still here…

“Tomorrow is going to come no matter what happens. Life goes on, regardless of anything. I’ve told that to myself countless times, but I’ve always hated it. Part of me thought how uncaring it was, when it seemed to me that all it did was to remind the ones already in pain of how apathetic the world is to their plight.” 

But he knows now that is not what those words mean. They are not cruel, callous words from an uncaring society, but rather a reminder and a promise. Regardless of how deep the pain will be, and how encompassing the sorrow can feel, it all will eventually pass, and a new day will come.

Takuto sucks in a breath, then reaches into the folds of his suit jacket. It only takes him a moment to find what he’d been searching for, and once he does he makes sure to take it out carefully, not wanting to risk anything happening to it with how fragile it is. 

It comes out into the open with a soft, crinkling sound. Takuto looks down at it as he unfolds it and gently smoothes down the creases that have formed since he’d tucked it away prior to setting off. Even in the dim light his eyes can easily make out the words printed on it, because why wouldn’t he? It is, after all, a copy of something that sits very close to his heart. 

“Rumi…” he murmurs as he idly traces the first few letters of the headline that captions the tragedy which had changed his life. He wonders what she would think of him now, like this. Would she be disappointed? Angry? Hurt? He supposes he will never know the answer. “I failed you. And… I’m sorry. But I think this time… I finally, truly understand. And so...”

He pauses, and takes in another breath as he holds out the clipping in front of him. He stares at it as he counts down from five in his head, letting him have these last few moments to commit everything to memory one last time. 

The moment time is up Takuto proceeds to rip the clipping in his hands into half. It yields easily like any other newspaper would, the sound of it's tearing echoing loudly in the silence surrounding him like nails on a chalkboard. 

But he doesn’t let himself stop there. Takuto does it a second time, then a third, fourth, fifth, and sixth. And even after that he keeps on going, ripping the flimsy piece of paper so many times that he eventually loses count and the pieces are so shredded that they are impossible to put back together. 

It’s only then does he stop, breathing heavily as he stares at the many pieces that have fallen onto the grass around him. After a moment he turns his gaze to the remains that have managed to stay in his grip, which he then proceeds to let fly into the air the moment a breeze comes passing by.

He watches the pieces take into the air, their light colors and the way they float reminding him heavily of the snow that fell onto him as he lay defeated at the top of Odaiba. But now, he no longer feels any of the resignation that had swirled within him back then. 

“Thank you for everything, Rumi.” A faint smile works it's way up to his face. “And… goodbye.”

The wind picks up, sending the pieces flying further away, across distances and heights that Takuto knows he will never be able to reach. But instead of that being sad, it only brings him a sense of finality… an understanding that this part of his life is truly over.

_Endings will inevitably come to pass for everyone. But just because something ends does not mean there is nothing left. The only thing that the end of a journey signifies…_

_...is the beginning of another._

The air around him shimmers as the sky breaks with the first rays of dawn's light. A single card manifests into existence before his eyes and gently drifts down towards him, twirling around as it does so. Takuto instinctively reaches out to grab the card before it can land on the ground.

Once he has it in his hand he brings it closer to study it. _Blue_ is the first thing that he sees, shimmering in myriad hues that remind him of the sea. Overlaid upon it is a translucent checkered pattern that serves as a background for the achromatic icon of a mask which in turn is framed by a row of triangles that circle around it. 

For some reason, he thinks he can feel the card humming in his hand, as if brimming with power that feels both familiar and foreign. A sense of anticipation starts building up inside of Takuto as he stares at the card for a few moments more, then turns it over to see what is on the other side. 

The blue is still there, though now it frames a different image entirely. What shows now is the silhouette of a young minstrel with a knapsack upon his shoulder, and a smaller silhouette of a dog-like creature follows him as he boldly looks forward to an unknown future, ready for the journey ahead of him. And below that image, emblazoned in brilliant white text at the very bottom, is the number zero.

_**I am thou, thou art I.** _

_**Thou who hast gazed into the forbidden and returned from the abyss…** _

_**Together, we shall work to resurrect your true self.** _

Unlike the booming, commanding voice of Azathoth, this one is softer and gentler, and the words are whispered to him like a hushed promise. The card in his hand pulses once, then twice before it bursts into pearls of light that dissipate with the rays of the rising sun.

Takuto closes his eyes and lets the warmth of the sunlight slowly wash over him. As the light hits his body he feels it warming up from both the inside and out. Something settles within him, finally quiet and content after weeks and months and years of agony and strife. 

In this moment, right there and then, Takuto finally feels at peace.

“Oh, my! What a wonderful sight that I, of all people, had the privilege to witness!”

Takuto opens his eyes and turns in the direction of where that loud, excitable voice had come from. It doesn’t take very long for him to do that—mostly because there is literally nobody else around—but the moment he sets his gaze on them it becomes clear that there is a lot more going on.

The only thing Takuto can do is to stare at the figure—a woman, he corrects himself—walks towards him, eventually coming to a stop at a distance where they can see and hear each other. The first thing he notices is her attire; a sleeveless dress with a high collar in a shade of strangely familiar blue that’s also present on her gloves and knee-high footwear. A small (and equally blue) cap rests at the top of platinum blonde hair which is cut to a bob, the bangs framing her bright, golden eyes that stare at him, brimming with an immense curiosity that he somehow finds just as oddly familiar. 

_(blue everywhere. golden eyes that look upon him in sadness. a small, gentle hand against his cheek._

_“You are… hurt. Your heart has been fractured for a long, long time, and the manifestation of your rebellion worsened it.”)_

She cocks her head to the side after a few moments, the curiosity in her eyes still brimming bright and clear as she studies him from where she currently stands. Takuto waits for her to speak, but as the seconds pass and she remains silent, it’s hard to deny his growing nervousness.

Eventually, Takuto decides to take his chances and be the one to initiate conversation. “Um. Hello?”

The woman blinks, as if surprised at being addressed, and then perks right up. “Ah! Yes, my apologies. I just couldn’t help but find you very fascinating. It is not everyday I get to see such a magnificent power awakening before my eyes. Especially not after what you have been through!”

“Um.” There are honestly a lot of things in that reply that he has questions for, but before he can tackle any of those, he should probably deal with the biggest question of all. “Sorry, but, who are you?”

Another surprised blink comes from the woman at the question, but after a moment her eyes suddenly light up in understanding. “Oh, of course! Do pardon my rudeness, it has been a while since I conversed with a human, and so I have forgotten many of your customs.” She presses a hand to her chest and proceeds to bow with a flourish. “I am Elizabeth, a former resident of the Velvet Room. It is a pleasure to meet you, Maruki Takuto.”

The fact that his name came out from this stranger is enough to take him by surprise, but for some reason what really gets him is the name ‘The Velvet Room’. For some reason it resounds within him, enough to stir up a faint memory at the back of his mind—or was it a dream? He’s not sure at all. It’s incredibly unclear, but Takuto knows that some part of him is responding to it.

_(“I look forward to the day when you can enter this room under your own power.”)_

“I see.” Elizabeth’s voice brings him back out of his thoughts. He blinks, and his vision refocuses back to the woman herself, who now presses a finger to her lips as she seemingly ponders about something. “How very intriguing…”

Takuto frowns at her words. Intriguing? What did she mean by that? It’s not hard to guess that she’s most likely talking to herself, but it's hard to not take notice of her mannerisms, especially after her abrupt entrance… or the fact that she somehow knew his name. 

After a moment’s consideration Takuto pushes himself to stand up and turns to face Elizabeth. “Sorry to ask, but… have we met before?” Sure, sometimes he may be a little scatterbrained, but he doubts he would have forgotten somebody with such a… peculiar character. 

Elizabeth claps her hands together and smiles brightly, answering with abundant cheer. “Absolutely not!” 

...the only comfort Takuto supposes he has is that at least she’s being honest about it. He takes a second to clear his throat before asking her another question. “Then how did you know about me?” Or for that matter, how she knew to find him in the first place. Considering the fact that they are near a highway, he highly doubts she could have just randomly waltzed over here.

“How could I _not_ know you?” Elizabeth’s eyes positively twinkle at this point, and if anything it seems like she sounds even _more_ excited. “It is not everyday where a human gains the power to control the collective unconscious, albeit momentarily, and still be alive after the fact. The others I know of are either dead or permanently unavailable, to my knowledge.”

Well, now Takuto isn’t sure at all how he’s supposed to feel now after hearing something like that, especially considering what happened in the last few days. He grimaces and shifts, hoping that his discomfort doesn’t make itself too obvious.

Judging by how Elizabeth’s expression falls, Takuto can only surmise that he didn’t succeed. “Ah. Clearly what I just said was uncomfortable to you. My apologies. I have been told that I can be rather callow at times—no, wait.” She pauses, frowning. “Callow? Hollow? Hologram…?”

Takuto opens his mouth to try and assure her that he isn’t hurt by her words, but then Elizabeth cuts him off with a shake of her head. “Well, in any case.” The cheerful smile from before returns to her face as she addresses him again. “I would be more than happy to make it up to you with a meal, as per the customary ritual of appeasing one’s feelings with food. I, for one, have only tried food in your world once before, and would like to relive the experience again.” 

She really is just… kind of inviting herself now, isn’t she? Takuto is admittedly still more than a little confused about her presence and actions in general, but he can sense her earnestness, which is probably the best thing to look at right now. It is a strange, refreshing kind of honesty that he can appreciate. 

He manages a tiny smile and rubs the back of his head. “Well, if you’re going to Tokyo, that’s the direction I’m headed. I can drop you off somewhere with the car if you want.”

Elizabeth’s expression lights back up. “Oooh, a _car_!” she says with an almost childlike excitement. “A metal construct powered by the remains of ancient predators, controlled by humans who use them everyday in a daily struggle of life or death as they race against time itself… why yes, I would be honored to be granted the opportunity to experience this struggle for myself.”

...Takuto isn’t even sure where to begin with that, but. One step at a time, like everything else. He takes in a breath and tries to give her his most assuring look. “It’s a rental, so it might not be to your expectations. Just as a precaution.”

“That is fine.” Elizabeth quickly waves away the warning, either entirely unbothered or wholly clueless to what he means and just not showing it. Judging from everything else from her thus far, he’s willing to bet that it's the latter. “Now, come along! ‘Time is of the quintessence’, as you humans like to say.”

Takuto thinks about correcting her for a moment before deciding that he can do that later. Probably while they’re having that meal she mentioned earlier. He hasn’t had anything to eat for a while now, after all. 

His stomach growls, as if agreeing to his thoughts. Takuto feels his face flush in embarrassment, already bracing himself for a remark of some sort from Elizabeth—but to his surprise she says nothing, and instead hums a wordless tune as she begins to walk towards his parked car.

Well, it’d be a lie to say that he doesn’t appreciate the ignorance, be it feigned or otherwise. He rubs the back of his head and then hurries after her back to the car, unlocking it once he’s close enough.

Despite Elizabeth’s unique understanding of a car she manages to settle in without needing any help or advice from Takuto, even managing to buckle herself in when she sees the seatbelt. “Ah, a restraining mechanism. A little flimsy, but humans can be surprisingly brittle. The consideration that has been given is wonderful.”

Takuto feels the corners of his lips twitch upwards as he fastens his own seatbelt. “I guess you could say that.”

He starts the car after those words, and as the engine rumbles to life he turns to look out the window one last time, staring at the now bright, clear blue skies as a new morning comes to greet him and this world that he lives in. 

Tomorrow. A word that carries both pain as well as hope, for it is an inevitability that will happen regardless of anything that happens today. There will always be a tomorrow, with or without him. In the future, Takuto hopes that one day he will be able to face that unshakeable certainty with his own unfaltering strength. But for now, he will face each day as it comes, and see where it leads him. 

He turns his gaze back to the front and presses his foot down onto the gas. The car begins to move, heading down the road to take him back home. 

“Veeelvet, oh velvet… my maaaster has a laaarge nose…”

...and this time, it won’t be the same lonely road as it had been before.

+

_Even if we’d never meet again_  
_Even if the time that has passed should transform into pain_  
_That pain will guide me_  
[_Towards the stars of the sky that shine above me_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I9yYDNeDs00)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that, as they say, is that.
> 
> When I first started this fic I was pretty much on a high after finishing Persona 5 Royal, but now a couple of months down the road while the high isn't really there anymore, recent experiences in life have really made me dwell a lot more about this game and its message in general, and more particularly Maruki, who has become such a divisive character from what I have seen. Entirely understandable, of course, given what he does in the course of the game and the way he presents himself.
> 
> I, for one, deeply sympathize with him. The desire to turn away is always so much stronger when the pain gets too much, and there are times where escapism is literally the only option that somebody has in a bad situation they are unable to escape from. Reality is... hard -- a sentiment I'm sure many have expressed in the shitstorm that is this year of 2020 -- and sometimes just even trying to stay afloat feels like a challenge. 
> 
> I hate to pull lines like 'it'll get better eventually!' or 'there's a light at the end of the tunnel' because I know how shallow it sounds, especially when it comes from people that you perceive to be better off than where you are, be in financially, emotionally or socially. But what I do want to say is... a new day brings new opportunities. Tomorrow will always be there, and while at times it will be terrifying and painful and so many other things there will be a tomorrow after that as well. So if anything, that is a certainty to hold onto. Of course, this is by no means any kind of professional advice or anything like that. Mostly just a rambling on my end, which you're free to entirely disregard.
> 
> But aside from that, I'd like to thank everyone one last time for reading this fic, and giving it a chance. I deeply appreciate each and every comment, kudos, subscription and bookmark that has been given to this story. It means a lot more than you know. I wish anyone who reads this good health and happiness, and all the best to everything you do in your life. :)
> 
> (As a final plug, if you're into Let's Plays, I highly recommend [The Nyancave's](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLhn2BMescPmMjh7Asyidp6kT0ChLGTXUV) playthrough of the game. They've just reached third semester content and their reactions are a joy to watch.)


End file.
